


She's Up Under My Skin Now

by Jehilew



Series: 'She's... He's...' [2]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Action, Drama, F/M, Rambit, Romance, Smut, The LeBeaux, break-ups, romy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 01:46:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11476008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jehilew/pseuds/Jehilew
Summary: Remy has finally worked himself around to admitting that Anna is more than just a one night stand, but what happens when a few of his secrets come back to bite him in the rear? And then there is that piece of nonsense called the Mutant Registration Act...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, I'm back with the second part of the "She's..." series. Some chapters will have smut, others will not, but most are from Remy's pov, so the curses will flow freely. There are going to be a couple of chapters from Anna's pov; those were originally one-shots, but with the way series are set up here, it put things out of order, and I figured this would be easier for you to follow:)
> 
> Here's the first date, and since we all know how first dates tend to be, I'm just giving humorous snippets to get you through it rather than bore you to tears writing a larger chunk of it out straight through. Anyway, as always, let me know how I'm doing here:)

"So." Anna looks at me from across the table. "Breakfast, huh?"

I look up from the menu at her. "Ouais, chere, that's what I call it."

"Why?" She asks bluntly, swallowing a gulp of coffee.

"Because that's what it is? Mais, you call it whatever you want, I guess."

She rolls those impossible eyes at me. "That ain't at all what I'm askin', swamp rat, and you know it."

I gesture to her menu, still laying on the table in front of her, untouched. "Unless you know what you want, it helps to take a look at that," I tease her. "I can tell you, though, the pancakes are pretty damn good here. I'd steer clear of the French toast, though."

"Uh-huh." She chews her lip for a second, those bright eyes of hers pinning me where I sit. "So, uh, this. This a date?"

I smirk at her. "Catch on real quick, don't you?"

She scowls at me. "Sugar, you better play nice, now, I ain't had all my coffee yet." Another sip smooths out her expression, and she looks over at me again. "I mean, for all I know, this coulda been just a friends thing. Or you just wanted company while you ate. I don't know."

I put the menu down, flirty smile ready. "Then allow me to disabuse you o' those notions entirely, chere. Ain't lookin' for friends, and I ain't feelin' lonely, either."

"Hmm, you sure this is a good idea? I mean, I don't really _date_ well."

I shrug. "Me, either. See? Two things in common already."

She frowns over a curious smile. "Two things? What's the other one?"

I give a slow grin. "Four nights, and you ain't figured that one out yet? I be happy to remind you after breakfast, if you'd like."

Now, that's a mighty fine blush that just set fire to those cheeks. "Well, if all's we got to go on is that and being terrible at relationships, I'd say maybe we've got a red flag, sugar."

"Don' know about that, girl," I chuckle out, "me, I ain't so quick to call sex like we get it a red flag, non? I figure if you an' me can make it through breakfast and a conversation without any major upsets, maybe we doin' alright, neh?"

"Sex and food's all it takes to make you happy? I'm _shocked_ ," she replies, picking up the menu. "So, pancakes, huh? I could do that, and the sides..."

I already know what I want, so I take a quick moment to look at her as she mutters over food options. Anna, formerly known as Rogue, at one time an X-Man like myself, now a cured mutant and living normal. Don't know how she can stand it, normalcy, but I suppose that's a 'you do you' sort of thing, especially given her fuckin' awful mutation.

Fortunately, it's a sort of thing that lets me do her, too.

She's beautiful, of course. Stunning, actually, with wild, white-striped chestnut curls, the greenest eyes I ever did see, smooth, creamy skin, and a body to fuckin' die for. She's also temperamental as hell, and apparently grouchy if you wake her up. Having spent four nights with the woman, three of which I've actually woken up next to her the following morning, you'd think I'd know that last bit by now.

Newp. Found that shit out the hard way earlier. Apparently, there's some huge difference between waking her up sex at my place versus hers, because with me, she'd always been good for a quick fuck and then had cheerfully bounced on out, whereas today, girl about snapped my nose off my face when I woke her up with a kiss and my dick pressed up against her fine little backside, and then proceeded to mumble "fuck off...mmnnh...," when I'd suggested _breakfast_ , followed by breakfast.

Anna has her quirks, I guess.

* * *

"You know what, Cajun, these ain't half bad."

I grin at her, watching as she takes another decent sized mouthful of pancakes. "Told you. Still mad at me for wakin' you up for this?"

"Uh-huh, this aint what you woke me up for."

"Was one of the things I woke you up for," I reply, watching her tongue dart out to catch the bit of whipped cream in the corner of her mouth. That had been an interesting preference of hers, no syrup, just butter and an insane amount of whipped cream with her pancakes.

So, she likes whipped cream, yeah? I like whipped cream, too, especially when licking it off of-

"Sugar, it wasn't like you could _hide_ what was on your mind at seven am this morning, and it wasn't food. Besides, I wasn't mad."

I lift a brow at her, finishing my own bite. "Girl, you growled at me to fuck off, if I remember rightly, and you weren't even a little bit mad at me?"

"Pfft. You ain't seen me mad. And if _I_ remember rightly, you pretty much _did_ fuck off. Or fuck on? Or however way you want to word it, it was still too early."

"Didn't hear no complaints out of you once you actually opened up those pretty green eyes of yours, chere."

It'd taken a bit of sweetening on my part, slipping a couple of charged fingers down between those fine legs, but it'd been worth it to watch her eyes pop open in surprise and then close to slits of pleasure. I can't tap into organic energy sources anymore, but calling up the charge does create a light buzz, a bit of static across the skin, and it'd been enough to get her off real fast and wake her up for more, after which I'd happily flipped her over and obliged.

Gotta say, she's a damn satisfying way to start out a morning.

"Well, just 'cause I didn't appreciate you wakin' me up doesn't mean that ain't a good way to go about it. And anyway, leave it to you to figure out how to use your power in bed," she adds as she goes for another forkful of pancakes.

"Creativity, at its finest, chere, at its finest."

* * *

"So, what's a Southern belle like you doin' all the way up here?"

She shrugs. "Never wanted to stay in my hometown, always wanted to get out and about. What about you? What brings a bayou boy up north?"

"Work," I answer, immediately looking to shift away from me. That ain't a conversation for now. "Why New York? Someplace you always wanted to go, or did y' just play a game of eeny-meeny-miney-mo, and this was it?"

"Hmm, well, New York was on my list of places, and I just figured why not start in one corner of the country and eventually make my way in and around from there, you know?"

"Sounds like a better thought out trip than I've come up wit' on occasion."

"Eeny-meeny-miney-mo?" She teases, then continues, "anyway, turns out it wasn't all that much of a trip around the country, after all. Kind of got stuck in a place for a while, and then, some things happened, and then I made some other things happen. I guess I'm still kinda stuck, what with school and all."

"How long you got left?"

"I've got a while to go, ain't even started the actual nursing stuff yet. Luckily, I'd already gotten all those general studies type classes out of the way back at my last place, else I'd feel like I was here for forever." She shrugs. "At least now, my breaks are free to do whatever, wherever as I please."

"Lot to be said for not gettin' yanked around on your free time, neh?"

"You got it, sugar. I might not've gone anywhere this past summer, and I won't be going anywhere this Christmas, but at least they won't be spent sucked up into something... well, _sucky_."

"If it makes you feel any better, last Christmas sucked for me, too," I offer up with a crooked grin. Holidays are the times I hate my exile the most, especially the ones where it don't work out that I can get safe passage back into my town.

"Well, no, not really." She raises up her half-gone, milked-down coffee. "I can't say that I've ever toasted with coffee before, but here's to better Christmases."

"Can't say that I have either, but I could drink to that. Coffee cheers."

* * *

"So, Remy. How old are ya, anyway?"

It's not a long walk back to her place, but we ain't in no hurry, and now with a belly-full of food and enough coffee to float a barge, she's kept up an easy chatter. Nothing hard to talk about, no heavy topics, just banter, mostly. A far cry from the mostly quiet, caffeine-deprived woman I'd walked into the diner earlier.

I cut her a glance at this question, though, wondering just how she'll react to the answer. I already know her age, and it's a good little gap between us. Me, I never put that much care into that sort of thing, past a general preference for women around my own age, and she's a bit of an old soul, anyway, so it doesn't matter much to me. Especially since I ain't bankin' on being around long enough for it to be an issue. Might matter to her, though; it would to most, neh? "Not too old to give you a good time, girl," I answer with a waggle of my brows.

She ignores my flirting and eyes me up. "Look, I know you're quite a bit older than I am. The way I figure it, if you're not too bothered by how young you think I am, then I won't be too bothered by how old you are." She pauses, then makes a face. "Unless you're, like sixty or something."

"Non, that's a ways away yet." I look over at her. "Forty-two."

"Knew you had an old man shuffle goin' on there. Need a cane? Christmas ain't that far off," she teases.

"I could do wit' one. Yelling 'get off my lawn' just don't have the same ring to it without a cane to wave around."

"Hmm. Well, since you shared yours, guess I'll share mine. I'm twenty-four, just turned." She grins up at me. "In fact, last time I saw you at that bar, when I was out with that friend of mine? Yeah, birthday drinks on a night no one else could celebrate with me."

"Well, now, wouldn't say _no_ one else celebrated wit' you," I leer at her.

"Ha, no, guess not, huh? But does it count if you didn't even know it was my birthday?"

I give her a slow, sly grin. "You're right, it prolly don't. I can always spring for another go, though."

"Sex and food, I swear," she laughs out with a roll of those pretty green eyes.

* * *

"Well, guess this is it." She stops in front of her door and turns to me. "Thanks for 'breakfast and a conversation', sugar," she throws my own words from earlier back at me with a smile, "it was good."

"Mmm-hm, know what else'd be good, chere?"

She lightly slaps my chest. "Jesus tap dancin' Christ, really? I was just joking earlier, but is gettin' laid really all you ever think about?"

I laugh at her, catching her hand. "Well, I know where your head's at, and if that's what you want, I'm happy to oblige. As it happens, though, that ain't what I was talkin' about."

"Oh." She flushes, tucking a curl behind her ear. I always did liked a pretty blush on a woman, and Anna, she's cute as hell when she does it. Of course, it also makes me think of the flush her skin takes on when I- "Well, then, what?"

"There's a band playin' out at a cowboy bar I know of, I hear they ain't half bad. Decent place, has good food, good drinks. You like to dance, no?" I know she'll go for it, I'm aware of her musical tastes, and I doubt a country girl like her will turn down a chance at two-stepping. Country ain't my favorite music, but I do like to dance. That shit's practically fore-foreplay if done right.

She blinks up at me in surprise. "Another date?"

"Just drinks and a conversation, chere," I tease her, bringing the back of her hand up for a kiss. Learned a long time ago that a little bit of manners and some of that old world charm goes a long way with women, and she's no exception, going off the way those eyes just softened up.

"Oh, I don't know, Cajun," she flirts readily enough, though her is hand tense in mine. "You said there'd be dancing. Sounds like a date to me."

"I pick you up Saturday at eight, Anna," I tell her with my most charming smile, lightly squeezing her fingers, leaning in a bit closer.

She hesitates, bright eyes wide and indecisive. "I...um..." Then she gives a small laugh. "Oh, what the hell, yeah, sounds fun. I'll see ya then, sugar." Then, she reaches up on her tip toes and steals a little kiss before I get a chance to, then backs up into her apartment, flashing me that mind-numbing smile of hers, stopping me where I stand til she disappears behind the door.

Can't help but grin as I turn to leave. Sure, she didn't trip all over herself agreeing to another night out, but that's alright. She already warned me that she's a bit gun-shy when it comes to this kind of thing.

Gettin' into that woman's panties again? Hell _yes_ , it's alright.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Mornin', Stormy," I call out cheerfully as I step inside my favorite weather witch's office, ready to give a friendly job report. It's been a few days, busy days, and today's turning out to be a right fine one. Got a couple of jobs wrapped up, got a real interesting outside prospect thrown my way that I'm seriously considering, and just to put a cherry on top, I got that date with Anna tonight.

Cherry. Anna. Heh, I'm hilarious, I know.

"Yes, I suppose it is," she answers tiredly. She'd only just returned from Washington late last night, and judging from the current state of her desk, I'd say a pile of headmistressy shit has been waiting on her for the past few weeks. "A good morning to get caught up on everything that has missed me."

"Chin up, buttercup. Got some good news for ya, padnat." I give her a wide grin. "Found a couple more of your cured kids while you was gone. Stacy's still wit' her folks, powers still suppressed, and the boy, his power's comin' back, his folks kicked him out. He's already on his way back, so be sure to act real surprised when you see m'sieur Espinosa later on, eh?"

Her face brightens with relief. "I was so worried about Angelo..." she trails off, sky blue eyes misting over with emotion. Unsurprisingly, it starts to sprinkle outside. Stormy's got this huge heart, and it's the kids that threaten to slip through the cracks that get her. Adults, too. I know that's why she's always had a soft spot for me, she ain't ever seen past the street kid she never even knew.

"As it happens, I have good news as well," she continues with smile. "Thanks to your discovery of future plans to make clinics administering the cure release the names of those who took it for registration, the political climate seems to have swung more sympathetic towards us."

"Huh. Turns out, regular folks get kind of nervous about gray areas like that, non?" Anyone with a lick of sense would see the writing all over the wall, the whole mutant registration bullshit they're tryin' to pass bleeds over into human rights, too.

"Yes. Unfortunately, there are far too many who can't see the forest for the trees, and will blindly support any registration efforts," she sighs, leaning back in her chair. "On another note, I've been in touch with Dr. McTaggart regarding the effects of the cure. As suspected, it looks to be a one hundred percent chance of the mutant suppression wearing off, usually starting within six months to a year after taking the injection. Length of time seems to depend on the complexity of mutation."

There's a little twist in my chest at that. I can only imagine how fucked that's gonna be for anyone who took that cure. Won't lie, even hough I owe my life to my powers _at_ _least_ ten times over, there's been a time or two I've wished I ain't had 'em _._ Can't help but feel a bit sick for the ones worse off than me, who really _can't_ live much because of their mutations.

"Good news is, once it starts to wear off, it seems to do so even more slowly than she'd originally thought, taking anywhere from two to three weeks for a simple mutation to fully express, to upwards of three months, possibly more, for a complex one."

She eyes me up for a long moment, then leans forward over her desk, pinning me with her blue cat's eyes. "One thing I've struggled with since losing some of our own to the cure was the knowledge that perhaps I did not stress as much as I should have the importance of gaining precise control over powers alongside regular education." She purses her lips. "I, of all people, should have known better than that, and because I didn't give it proper emphasis, I feel I've failed those individuals, and that I'm failing others."

I roll my eyes at her. "Listen to y'self, chere. Y'all got classes dedicated to nothing but power control. Don't look like any 'failing' happened from where I'm standin', Stormy."

She nods. "Yes, we do have classes for control, but since we've been so short staffed, the classes have been much bigger, and there has been little to no individual attention with the students like there once was."

I lift a brow, knowing where she's going with all this. "Bound and determined to make a teacher out of me yet, aren't y'?"

Ain't happenin'. I'm already feeling a bit too...tethered...here with the X-Men, kind of making me feel a bit antsy. Last thing I want is to get suckered into headin' up a classroom full knot-headed young'ins for months at a time. Just the thought is almost enough to make my balls shrivel up and fall off.

"Not exactly, no," she goes on with an amused smile. "Your particular talents are put to much better use elsewhere. But your experience in gaining control and your level of skill with your gifts cannot be ignored, so I'm only asking you to work with Angelo for now, one-on-one." She pauses, taking a sip of her tea. "According to Dr. McTaggart, going off the initial blood-work from the physicals Jean and Beast conducted upon his recruitment, it is expected that his full recovery of mutation should be two to four weeks, at most."

I relax a little. A month, tops? "I could do that, so long's I set the schedule. And if I have enough incentive," I add with a grin.

"Naturally," she replies with a knowing smile.

"What about them other kids that took the cure? How long the doc say they'd take?"

"Most of them are within similar time frames, only two having more complex mutations that will take longer. The girl you mentioned earlier, Stacy X, and the girl you found first, Rogue, fall into the latter category. Dr. McTaggart has predicted that both women probably have another two to three months before the cure starts wearing off, with Stacy probably coming back into her powers fairly quickly due hormonal fluctuations, and Rogue's likely taking much longer, gradually coming back within a two to three month period."

"So when you gonna reel 'em in?"

"I'd originally thought to approach them fairly quickly, since even with Dr. McTaggart's predicted return of powers, they're only good estimations, at best." She pauses, leaning back in her chair. "However, that's no longer necessary, as we have a telepath strong enough to operate Cerebro arriving shortly. We'll be able to catch any power signatures as they flare up, well before they fully manifest."

I cock my head at her and give a grin. "A telepath manning Cerebro? Guess I ain't gotta find anymore of the Lost Boys now, non?"

"As much as I see that it breaks your heart, my friend, yes, that's the case," she replies with a chuckle.

"Ah, Stormy, music to my ears, chere. Stalking les petits ain't quite this old man's style, let someone else do it a while, neh?" Can't help the smile all over my face now. I hate following people. The work is boring as fuck, and it's time consuming. Not to mention, now, I get a nice little heads up before anyone decides to run off and tell Anna it's time to come home. Either way, I'm caught there, unless she doesn't return or I quit, but still, I'd like to keep ridin' that ride til I'm done, yeah?

"Oh, I don't know, darling, stalking seems right up your alley."

_Fuck_. I know that voice, that snooty Boston accent. What the shit, Stormy? Really? Of all the spooks in the world, she lets in the nosiest one that can actually crack into my head?

I immediately throw up mental shields, amp up the static, and start broadcasting every detail of one of my more entertaining encounters with the telepath in my mind. Slowly. Loudly. Especially that part where she went down-

_Ouw! Fuck!_ God _dammit_ , that fuckin' hurt. Nothing like a nice, hateful telepathic stab to the head at the top of the day. _Son of a bitch_. It hurts so bad, I've got tears, but I'm smiling anyway. I got what I wanted, she ain't poking around in my mind anymore.

I'm gonna go ahead and call myself lucky right now, too, 'cause said telepath would probably just as soon kill me with a thought as anything.

"Bonjour, Ms. Frost," I look at her with a smirk. God only knows how I managed _anything_ at her, seeing as how it feels like my head should be nothing but a splatter across the room.

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Emma Frost, known as the White Queen to a few, known as a complete cutthroat bitch to all. Dieu, I hate her. Even if she does give a wicked blow-job.

"LeBeau," she snaps out of a shit-eatin' grin before turning to Stormy. "Good morning, Headmistress Munroe," she chirps out jaunty as you please.

Stormy gives Emma one of her 'serenity smiles', as I call 'em. "Good morning, Emma. Welcome, and thank you for joining us on such short notice." She looks at me. "I see you already know Remy?"

"Oui, me and her go way back. Ain't that right, Queenie?"

"Unfortunately. I see you've got your eyes back, hmm, _diable blanc_?"

I keep the smirk, but my blood's runnin' a bit cooler.

Stormy gives me a confused look. "He... has his eyes back?"

"A long story, really," Emma goes on, lifting a hoity-toity brow at me. "We'll just say he had a run-in or two with a particularly unpleasant doctor who had been _extremely_ interested in how his eyes worked, and that he was successful in all of his... _studies_."

Mmm-hm, looks like Emma's still pissed that I'd set her up to fall so I could escape Stryker's hell-hole, and she's hit something like pay dirt on me since. Not a good thing, since she's the kind of woman that always wants something, and it hardly _ever_ to the benefit of anyone else, least of all, me.

And now Stormy's giving me a real unhappy look. She don't know hardly any details about my time with Stryker, but she knows enough to recognize some of Emma's reference just now.

I kill the urge to squirm a little in my seat at all that, and aim a cryptic smile at Emma. "Depends on what you call 'successful', I guess," Considering all that went down with that asshole messin' with my eyes... "All in all, kinda nice, havin' 'em back." I lick my lower lip slow. "They's a real hit wit' the ladies."

See, this might come as a shock to most, but Emma's favorite color isn't white. _Ohhhh_ no. It's red, with black pullin' in a close second. As in, having a preference for red lingerie and black satin sheets. And takin' a real shine to my hellish red and black eyes.

Emma smiles like a switchblade. "Indeed. They were a hit with one little lady in particular, were they not? What was her name? Sarah-something?"

I manage a shrug. "I'm sure they were, chere. Lots of girls like 'em, and I know quite a few Sarah-somethings."

"Hmm. I'm not surprised you've forgotten so easily, but I'm willing to bet that she did not."

"Story of my life, yeah?" And on that note, time to make my exit before my mouth gets ahead of my brain. I keep poking at Emma, she'll likely give me a zap that'll turn me into an eye-twitching, drooling pile of stupid for the next month.

I push myself up out of the chair. "Eh bien, as much as I'd like to stick around chit-chat with two beautiful women, the day's a-wastin', and I best be goin', me." I look over at Stormy. "Got anything else for me, padnat?"

"No, I don't have anything else new for you at this moment," she replies with an absent smile, eying Emma thoughtfully. Shit, she's probably only a couple more comments away from connecting the dots.

Fuck _off_ , Frost.

Emma heard that, and flashes me a smile so wide, I swear I can see every tooth in her head.

I give Stormy a crooked grin. "Then I be disappearin' while I can. I'll see y'all 'round."

Dieu, I couldn't get out of there fast enough. Now, If I can just sleep off this headache before the sun goes down, I be doin' good again.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Date numero dos. Hope this makes up for no Romy last chapter. Enjoy the calm before a storm:)
> 
> Also, yes, I know. Bikes and dresses and arriving at your destination with your hair still looking date-pretty isn't a terribly realistic _thing_ , but hell, just TRY to tell me that isn't such a Rogue and Gambit way to go about shit.

As it happened, Lady Luck walked beside me today, and that headache was mostly gone by mid-afternoon. I've still got a remnant of it, mostly it's my eyes are a bit more sensitive to lights than usual, but it's nothing I ain't dealt with before. Worst part so far is the walk up to Anna's apartment, because it's pretty well lit up.

But even that ain't so bad, not bad at all, when you've got an extremely beautiful woman answering your knock on her door.

"Hi, sugar." Anna opens up and steps out, her smile about knocking the damn wind out of my chest. She always does that, kind of bowls me over for a second every time I see her.

"Evenin', chere," I reply with a grin of my own, catching up her hand for quick kiss across the knuckles, pulling her up close enough, it wouldn't be a far lean in to kiss her. "And look at you, so beautiful, you stop this Cajun in his steps," I add, appreciatively looking her over. She's looking damn fine tonight, wearing a short, kinda swingy dark blue dress that blows up those incredible eyes and shows off her tits. Of course, she rounds it all out with that leather jacket of hers and a pair of shit-kickers, though thankfully, it doesn't appear that she's actually ever kicked any shit in 'em.

Won't lie, she's making me consider skipping the date and going straight to strippin' her down to those boots and fuckin' her in reverse cowgirl position. It don't matter that it's only been a few days since I was last with her, this woman's already about got me sprung like I ain't gotten laid in a month.

"Listen to you and all that sweet talk," she grins up at me, stepping back and pulling her hand out of mine a bit too quickly. "You don't look so bad yourself, Cajun."

She's nervous, like she was the last time I took her out, only she's had a few days to stew in it and take it up a few notches. Interesting little mindfuck that her power left her in, that she's so quick to fuck, yet turn so cagey on a date. She don't really strike me for the type, she seems more like the sort to go lookin' for white picket fences.

Smiling, I rest my hand lightly in the small of her back, turning to leave. "Ready?"

She licks her lips nervously, then grins. "This is as good as it gets, sugar. Let's get out of here."

Good as it gets? Oh non, don't think so, girl. That's after we get back, after I take off all them clothes. Mon dieu, I'm just _itchin_ ' to get my hands on her again.

* * *

"Sugar, when you said 'cowboy bar' the other day, I was expecting just some old bar, not a decent restaurant with a bar, dance hall, and a mechanical bull." Anna pops a ranch-drenched fried mushroom into her mouth, looking around.

"Chere, I met you at _some ol' bar_. I'm not gonna take you out to another one. Crap dates generally don't end well for a homme."

"Good ones ain't a guarantee, either," she snips with a smirk.

"Good thing I like challenges, eh?"

"Yeah? Huh. Then what are you doin' here with me? I didn't think I'd ever made it all that hard for you _._ "

"Oh, chere, you make it real hard every time," I leer at her.

She snorts and rolls her eyes at me. "That was...that was pretty bad, Cajun." She takes the last slurp off her drink, a fruity concoction she apparently likes really well, seeing as how she's already ordered a second one. Girl better slow down, 'cause I'd sure like to get lai-

"Though I suppose it's kind of difficult, comin' up with something better to say when all you're thinkin' with is in your pants, huh?" She teases.

"That interested in what's in my pants, are y'?"

"Sugar, I'll give it to ya, you're about the best at selective hearing I've ever seen."

" _P_ _lease_ believe me when I say I'll happily take anything you give me, yeah?"

"My lord," she laughs out, first real one tonight. "How about you try putting some of that food in your mouth, Remy, I think it'll improve your lines."

I smile at her. "Probably. They are pretty bad, non? Worth it for that laugh, girl."

She rolls her pretty green eyes at me as she reaches for her drink again, but she smiling.

Score one for Remy. Let's see if it's drinks or charm that really loosen this girl up first.

* * *

"Psh! Liar. No way did you manage that," Anna scoffs at a humorous story from my younger years, her expression turned up in skepticism. There's no missing the amusement lighting up her eyes, though. A lot of humor, a little flirting, some interested questions in between, and she's been slowly softening up and smiling for the last hour or so. Didn't even take anymore drinks, either, seein' as how she's only just now finishing up that second one.

"Did, too, and I got the scar to prove it."

"Yeah? Where at?"

I give her a slow, sly grin. "Chere, can't get away wit' that little show 'n tell here, but I be happy to do so later on."

"Or, you could just tell me," she drawls out. "I don't guess it matters, you could just say any scar is the one, and I wouldn't know any better, huh?"

"You got me there, sweetheart. Guess you'll just have to trust me, yeah?"

"Hmmp, let's see how far I can throw you first," she shoots back. Then she leans forward on her elbows. "Anyway, moving on. What is it you do? What puts meals on your table?"

And now, we let the game of half-truths begin. "Won't bore you wit' the boring details, but I mostly do acquisitions and sell information."

"That sounds..." she pauses, no doubt trying to find polite words that won't encourage more details.

"Sounds boring. I know. But it pays well, and I'm damn good at it."

"So modest."

"Psh, modesty don't get anyone anywhere, girl. Anyway, you. What made you decide on nursing? Kind of figured you for a get-your-hands-dirty-with-engine-grease sort of woman."

She's silent for a moment. "You uh, you know I'm a mutant, right?"

"Figured as much."

"Mmm-hm, well, my power, it... Well, it sucks. Literally." She eyes me up straight on. "I hurt a few people. Figured I could do with helping folks for a change, is all."

I noticed how she didn't mention her lack of power then. She don't bring up the cure, I won't, either. "Powers are such a pain in the ass when you can't control 'em, non? Me, I blew up everything around me for the longest. Imagine being a fourteen year old boy who keeps blowin' up all his clothes every time he gets a little worked up."

She laughs. "So, every time a pretty girl walked by?"

"Go on, laugh it up, chere. I'll just sit over here and drink away the memory of my teenaged trauma."

She snickers at me. "I _almost_ feel sorry for you, that's pretty awful." She shifts in her chair. "So, I have to ask, sugar. How are you not married with five or six kids by now? I mean, you're good lookin', charming when you feel like it, you clearly aren't hurtin' for money, and you're even house-broke. What gives?"

"House-broke?" I ask with a chuckle and a raised brow.

She nods. "Yeah. Your place, it's fantastic, and it's _clean_. And I've seen your kitchen, too, you also cook. So, what's the catch?"

'Catches', she calls 'em. Got plenty of those. "Hmmm, well, when you put it that way, I don't guess I have _too_ many strikes against me."

"Oh, c'mon! Gimme _all_ your flaws, sugar."

"Can't. 'Cause I'm flawless."

"Sure, you are," she drawls out slow and skeptical. "Fine. Let's see if I can guess what's wrong with you. You're a...you're a serial killer, right?"

No, not technically, but the Morlocks might disagree. "Non, don't kill people in my spare time."

"You _are_ married, aren't you?"

"Got married once. We split years ago." Not a lie, despite still being trapped in that marriage. That whole thing was over before it'd even begun _,_ and me and Belle have long since moved on. Occasional hook ups since don't count for nothin'.

"Youuuu... You _do_ have five or six kids, but with five or six different baby mamas."

Not that many, no. Just one. Well, _would've_ been one, anyway, if the girl hadn't decided to get rid of it. "Non, no kids."

"Hmmm," she hums, tapping her mouth thoughtfully, eyes glittering. "You're really a gay dude in some serious denial?"

"Y' finally got me, girl. Explains why I keep comin' back to you, eh? 'Cause you're such a handsome, manly man-woman."

"Ass." She crunches on an ice cube as she eyes me up again. "No, really, though. You said last time you don't date well. So what's your hang up, then? Just ain't the committin' type?"

I shrug. "Maybe." It ain't quite like that, not really; I'm not _opposed_ to commitment, I don't guess, I'm just don't know that I put much stock in it. All's I gotta do is look around, watch regular people messin' it up; if even they can't get it right, what kind of chance does a man like me have, with all these skeletons rattling around in my closet? "It's just that kids, a family, _normal_... People, they's all lookin' for a certain thing, and I ain't it, is all."

She cocks her head, giving me a curious look. "All that you just said, you think it 'cause you're a mutant?"

I shrug. "Eh, well, kind of a heavy thing to hang over everyone's head, yeah?" Not my reason, but I'll let her think it is. No need to air out all the stink, neh?

She looks out over the dance floor, watching couples go by. "I suppose so." Then she looks down at her hands. "Always figured that kinda thing wasn't in the cards for me, either."

"That what you want, chere? A husband, kids, a little house in the suburbs somewhere?"

She glances over at me with a skittish look in her eyes. "Don't know, sugar. Thought I did at one time, but now I wonder if maybe that's only 'cause I thought I couldn't have it."

I suppose it's good thing she ain't looking to set up and play house. At least she won't be crushed when she realizes she still can't have it.

Standing, smile ready, I hold out my hand to her. "Well, now that we've gotten all those questions out of the way, care to dance wit' me?"

Her whole face lights up as she takes my hand and lets me pull her up, and the tension melts off her shoulders. "You know how long it's been since I've two-stepped, Cajun?"

I shake my head, pulling her out on the floor. "How long?"

"Not since I was a scrawny kid at a junior high dance."

I grin down at her as I slip an arm around her waist and draw her up. "That's a lot of words to say 'too damn long', chere. You just follow this ol' Cajun's lead, and we'll end that long streak here and now."

* * *

"Chere, I'd definitely say it's been too long since you last two-stepped," I tease her as she steps on my toes again.

"Whatever. Your feet are always in the way," she zips back, her eyes sparkling and a wide grin spread all over that soft mouth.

I laugh at that, tightening my arm around her and pressing a warm kiss to her temple. She's finally relaxed and having a good time, and she's fuckin' gorgeous while she's at it. I've been just about this close to kissing the hell of her ever since I took her to the dance floor over twenty minutes ago.

I spin her out, pulling her back even closer. "You just keep right on sassin' me, and see where that lands y'," I flirt with her, smiling. A real smile, too, the stupid lookin' lopsided one with a dimple. Real smooth, yeah? "One thing I really like about you, chere, you got a mouth on you."

She knits up her brows at me. "Only _one_ thing, swamp rat, and _that's_ what you go for?"

"Yeah, well, wit' a mouth like yours, girl? Tellin' me what-for ain't all it can do."

She flushes, and I pick up on a sudden spike in arousal. Well now, what's this? Looks to me like maybe Anna's got an oral fantasy or two tucked away in that pretty little head of hers. She absolutely loved it when I went down on her, but she hadn't indicated that she wanted to reciprocate.

"That's a real pretty blush, chere. Looks like maybe you've put some thought into it already, yeah?"

" _Really_? And here you were, doin' _so good_ , having gone nearly an hour without any bad lines or innuendos." She's attempting to brazen it out with humor, but her whole face as red as a Coke can, kinda ruining it for her. She's real cute trying, though.

"A whole hour? Think I broke a record, there. I should get a reward. One that involves your mouth, yeah?" I can't help but tease her again, ain't never seen anyone turn as red as she does.

"Hmm, tell you what, Cajun," she hums, her expression goin' a bit sly, "you lay off the Casanova-always-lookin'-to-score routine the rest of the date, I'll do one thing that you really _, really_ want later on, no questions asked."

_Ohh-ho-ho-ohh_ , shit, the possibilities there...

Grinning wide, I give her another spin, first one way, then the other and snatching her back against my chest with her arms crossing hers. Keeping her there for a minute, I make her breath hitch with a kiss just behind her ear. "Sweetheart, you got yourself a deal. And might I say, I'm _really_ lookin' forward to you payin' up."

* * *

"Now, chere, there ain't no reason to be such a sore loser."

It's nearly two hours later, we're back at her place, having just crashed through the door in a liplock not even five minutes ago, and presently, I'm backing her up toward her room with every intention of fuckin' her brains out. She'd squawked a little bit when I'd snatched her around and up into a kiss after she'd turned the lock on her door, but hell, she's hot when she back-talks, and she'd been real busy lippin' off at me over how I lost that bet because of some comment I'd made on the way up the stairs.

Like hell, I lost, the deal was, I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the date. We were on our way up the stairs to her apartment, so technically, the date was over, and we were movin' on to the after-party.

"I ain't no sore loser, Cajun, you _lost_!" She laughs in my face, grabbin' at my shoulders as she stumbles a little, "I _knew_ it, you couldn't help yourself, you just _had_ to make another comment about my mouth-"

I cut her off with another kiss, backing her up against her bedroom door, a hand on either side of her head. "And I didn't say it til the date was over, now did I?"

"A date ain't over til after a goodnight kiss," she snips against my mouth. "You ran that mouth of yours ten minutes ago, and I'm just now gettin' that goodnight kiss."

"Girl, I been kissin' you since you slid y' sweet little ass off the back-end of my bike, I'd say maybe I been goodnight kissin' you for well over ten minutes now, yeah?"

"But it ain't a goodnight kiss til it's at the door. Just admit it," she snickers up at me, pulling my head back down for another kiss, "you lost, I won."

"Chere, it don't really matter, you know you ain't losin' out either way, yeah?" I laugh at her between kisses, gripping the back of her thighs and lifting her up, planting her against the door and rocking up into her.

"Remy, anyone ever tell you - uhhhhn, now that feels goooooood," she purrs softly, letting her head fall back when I run a hand up her skirt to rub her clit through her panties.

"Mmm-hm, you were sayin', chere?"

"What? Oh, uh, I don't...don't suppose...um...god, who the hell cares, just...just don't stop."

"Don' plan on it," I chuckle in her ear, two fingers already inside her...dieu, she's ready... so slick, so, so slick... Christ, wouldn't take much to get her right now, she won't say no... Hold on, homme, you ain't nailing her here. Non, that little fantasy I had earlier of her one top in nothing but her boots stuck with me, and fuck, just thinking about it again is enough to make me grit my teeth and curl up my fingers a little harder inside her-

"Oh - OHH!" Anna suddenly yelps up at the ceiling, back arching as her body snaps up in orgasm.

I don't waste any time from there, letting her feet hit the floor as I open the door, then grabbing her up in both arms and kissing her hard, deep, backing her up into the room. Her hands slip down my front, undoing my jeans and shoving 'em down, boxers, too, making me lose my balance as they pool around my ankles. I turn her so that it's me that falls back heavily on the edge of the bed, immediately sitting up and pulling her in between my legs, hands running up under her dress.

Looking up at her, I ease her panties off her hips to the floor. "You know what I was thinkin' when I first saw you tonight?"

"Mmm, what was that, sugar?" She asks, climbing up and straddling me.

"First thing was, I thought you were so beautiful, you about stole the breath out of my chest," I tell her, pushing her dress up, up past her waist, up over her head.

"Aww, that's actually pretty sweet. Now, what's the second? Something dirty, huh?" She smirks at me, pushin' my shirt open as I roll on a condom.

"You know me too well already, chere. Pretty soon, y' gonna get bored wit' this old man," I tease her while unhooking her bra. "Mais, yeah, all I could think about for a minute was you, stripped down to them boots, fuckin' me hard, and me, I'd maybe do this right here," I lean forward, suck up her nipple, poppin' off slow while thumbin' her clit, kinda rough, "and maybe get y' off a coupla times."

She hums through a thick smile and slides hands up my chest and around my neck, gettin' a handful of my hair and pullin' my head back. "Sugar, I get it like that, and I might even let you stay the night."

"Awww, chere, were you really thinkin' about kickin' me out?" I ask, squeezin' her ass in my hands, lifting her up, and sliding her down my dick with a hiss of pleasure.

"Gotta earn your keep, Caju - ohhhh, god," she cuts herself off with a moan, eyes fluttering as she finds her spot.

Well, now, who am I to ignore a challenge like that?

* * *

It's a little while later, and Anna is now sprawled out on my chest, though she ain't asleep. Grinning to myself, I can't help but think she ought to be worn out, the sex had been intense. I didn't make her come but once, but she'd got off _hard_.

I guess I ain't all that surprised, though, that she ain't passed out a sex-sore heap; despite having completely relaxed her just a handful of minutes ago, I've sensed all that tension I been wearin' down all night buildin' back up again since she got off that last time. And now, she's tapping her fingers on my chest, her body practically screaming with all that nervous energy.

Finally, she blows a puff of breath across my throat, and picks herself up, pulling off and away.

"Where y' goin', chere?"

She flings me a guarded look. "Just movin' over, is all."

Her emotions are spiking all over the place. She's about to run for the hills.

"You're a terrible liar, sweet. Get back over here."

She freezes for a moment, then clenches her jaw stubbornly. "Look. I uh, I had fun earlier, and _this_ is fun, but I don't know if this, what we're doing," she pauses, gesturing between us. "I just...I don't think it's a good idea. Like I told you before, I can't really do this kinda thing."

"You're doin' it alright, don't see me complainin' none, eh?"

"Of course you're not complainin', you're gettin' _laid_."

"Now, chere. Good as it is wit' you- and it _is_ damn good -you really think that's all it is? Try again," I tell her, lightly running the back of my fingers along the outside of her thigh.

She licks her lips, looks indecisive, and doesn't budge an inch.

I wait her out, rubbing long strokes over that ass I'd like to sink my teeth into again.

Finally, she shrugs and looks away. "I ain't lookin' for anyone right now, is all."

There's more to it than that, she ain't nearly as good at telling half truths as I am. "Seems to me that if you really didn't like me all that much, you'd have already told me to go jump off a cliff, chere," I tell her, fingers still gliding over her silk-smooth skin.

She gives me wry smile. "Never said I didn't like you, sugar."

"Then I ain't seein' a problem here," I smile up at her again, sliding my hand up over her hip, up her back, and pulling her down. She lets me, though she's still tense.

She purses her lips. "Well, thing is, I kinda hit a big turnin' point not so long ago, made a few changes, and I'm real happy at the moment. I like it that way."

Bullshit. Empathy don't lie, and right now, her emotions are runnin' as hot and cold as her actions are. She don't no more know what she wants than the man on the moon.

Slipping fingers up the nape of her neck, tangling them up in that thick, wild hair, I gently rub her scalp, trying to relax her. "Alright, girl, we do it like this. You and me, we're havin' a good time tonight, no? Let's keep at it, and we'll take the rest later on, as it comes, yeah?"

She eyes me up warily. "I'll probably say no if you ask me out again."

I show her my teeth. "You won't."

"That ego, I swear," she rolls her eyes and swats my chest. "So, say we _do_ go on with...whatever...we've got," she trips up, gesturing between us, "what about seein' other people?"

"Thought you didn't want to see anyone, chere."

She shrugs, eyes darting down to where her finger is nervously tapping my chest. "I don't. But I might want to sleep with someone else."

The spike I feel off that girl, she's feedin' me a line, but if she wants to play it that way, fine by me. Ain't like I'm swearing off other women, anyway. "That's alright, we both do what we want." _  
_

Those impossible eyes fly back up to mine. "That's it? Just like that, huh?"

"Mmm-hm, just like you want it." I squeeze her ass and grin real slow. "You know I live and breathe to please you, chere."

"Oh, stop it," she huffs, clapping her hand over my mouth. She then pauses, fidgets for a moment before pulling her hand away. "Maybe. We'll see."

"Mmm-hm. Now, think you might want to relax and go on to sleep before I wake you up for round two here in a bit?"

She lifts a brow. "Who said I was lettin' you stick around for a 'round two'? If I had any sense, I'd kick you out right now."

I reach up and push a white curl out of her eyes. "Maybe. But _not_ usin' any sense is a lot more fun in this case."

"Heh, now, there's a hell of an argument." Then she smiles, finally relaxing a little. "You know one thing I like about you, Cajun?"

I raise brows at her. "What's that?"

"You're so _easy_."

I start laughing. "You only like me 'cause I'm easy? Why, chere, I feel so _used_!"

"Well, that didn't come out quite right," she laughs at herself. "I meant you're...well...easy. You know, uncomplicated."

"Easy," I repeat, still laughing, this time feeling more than just a tad guilty, 'cause yeah, I just _keep_ complicating shit with her. "I'm heartbroken, completely devastated."

"Shut it, Remy. Words are hard right now."

I flip her over, scooping up a butt cheek in one hand, sliding my other arm up under her neck as I lean in for kiss. "Know what else is hard right now?" I growl out against her mouth, rubbing right up against her, making her hiss out my name.

Anna slides her hands down my ribs and then back up along my spine, making me shiver in anticipation. "So I guess this means round two, _then_ sleep?"

"Mmm-hm, and you better sleep good, too, 'cause round three ain't too far off, either. Gotta earn my keep, y' know."

"Don't you forget it, either, sugar," she laughs, pulling me in with arms and legs.

Humor and sex, her silver bullets. Looks like she's maybe lettin' me stick around a while, after all.

One win at a time, I'll take it.

 

 


	4. He Ain't Such A Bad Idea, After All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna is having some thoughts about her feelings toward a certain handsome Cajun she's been sleeping with, and is now...dating?

2:26 A.M.

That's what the digital clock on my nightstand reads. If I had a lick of sense, I'd lay my head back down and get whatever sleep while I can. Tomorrow's a long day, I'm workin' the church and dinner rushes, and the sleeping man I'm currently piled up into doesn't believe in sleepin' through the night.

Yeah, I know. It's _him_. Remy LeBeau. Insanely gorgeous, insanely good in bed, and you'd have to be absolutely insane in the head to get tangled up with the likes of him. Yet, here I am, havin' gone on two dates with now, I'm sleepin' with him again, and I'm lettin' him stay the night again, even though I should've long since kicked him out.

Then again, I've never been known to be a hundred percent mentally stable at any given point in time, so there's that. Kinda comes with the territory of having a mutant 'gift' that sucks a wisp of a person's mind (among other things) into my mind upon immediate skin to skin contact.

Sighing as quietly as I can, I lay my head back down on his shoulder, turning my face into his skin, softly kissin' him. He's got the smoothest skin, all stretched out tight over long, lean muscles, and he's so _warm_ , so _inviting_. He smells absolutely delicious, a combination of motor oil and cigarettes all wrapped up in a spicy cologne. He tastes even better, his skin kinda salty, his mouth surprisingly pleasant, what with him being a smoker and all. And damn, does he feel good, every blasted inch of his body feels incredible. It's one of the reasons why I keep lettin' him through my door.

I slowly stretch out into him, kissin' that little patch of skin in front of me some more. I'm not a snuggler, but he seems bent on changin' that. I still prefer to sleep alone and with absolutely nothing but covers touching me, and I'll still try to move over to my side of the bed _after_ , but Remy won't let me get away with it anymore. Soon as I roll away, he'll grab ahold of me and drag me back against him. When I snap at him over it, he just laughs and holds me in a little tighter.

Truth is, though, the fight, I'm pretty sure most of it's a front now. I love it, the feel of being crushed up into his body, the heavy weight of his arm across my back and shoulder. I crave it, the near constant skin-to-skin contact he gives me. And lord, does he give it! Remy touches freely, frequently, without inhibitions, and he lets me do the same. He never pulls back when I do reach for him, he never seems to think it's weird, how I'll maintain contact just a bit longer than most people do, and he never, ever withholds touch whenever I want it. It's almost like the man has no personal bubble.

Speakin' of how I like touch, wanna know something funny? Even though I'm cured, I hardly touch anyone. See, when I first got the cure, I was ecstatic, felt free. All of a sudden, I could hold hands, hug friends, kiss Bobby, hell, have sex with Bobby. People could stop givin' me a three feet safety circle, and I could start being comfortable during the warmer months again! Except...yeah, none of that happened. Well, I did kiss and have sex with Bobby, and I did go on to dress comfortably all spring and summer, but that's it. People still avoided touchin' me, still avoided getting too close. Feeling caged in all the same, I left. Some think I left because Bobby cheated, but no, I stuck around and gave that asshole a second chance. I left because I wanted change, and still couldn't have it. And once on my own? I _finally_ had it!

Only thing is, I'm somewhat socially stupid when it comes to touchin' boundaries. Having been denied nearly all contact for workin' on ten years now, I'm weird about it. Like, I'll shake someone's hand too long, or I'll prolong a hug more than most. When I tried datin' this guy, Jackson, from one of my classes, I was 'clingy', all because I wanted to touch him too much. Finally, I just got back to where I didn't touch anyone, because honestly, I was makin' people uncomfortable, makin' friends uncomfortable, and it ain't like I could tell 'em why I was so weird, right?

Then here comes Remy, and he's a real touchy-feely kinda guy, so he doesn't mind it at all. He doesn't ask questions, he doesn't get uncomfortable. In fact, when I touch him, he reciprocates tenfold! And I _love_ it, eat it up.

I love it even now, when he's fast asleep, and it's just me doin' the touching. He doesn't care about that, either, never cares even if it wakes him up.

I splay my fingers over his chest, slowly curlin' 'em back up, rakin' 'em through the light dusting of hair, then following where it funnels down the mid-line of his rock-hard abdomen. He says he works something real boring, something like business acquisitions or whatever, but if I was a guessin' gal, I'd call him a liar. Eyes like those and a body in this kind of extreme physical condition? Bullshit, he works in an office and wears a suit and tie. I doubt he's a do-gooder, though, he's too...hmm...what's a good word here? _Slick_ , he's too slick for that, too dark. My guess is, he's a bit crooked, and that maybe his moral compass doesn't point quite due North, but I can't say that I think he's a bad man.

Actually, he reminds me a whole lot of Logan.

I snicker quietly into his shoulder at that, and he stirs, turnin' his face toward me. I'm actually surprised I ain't woke him up yet, he's usually a light sleeper. Then again, I'd noticed he looked a peaked earlier, like maybe he'd had a hell of a headache all day or something.

I slide my hand back up his torso, then up his neck and into his hair, dropping little kisses up along his collarbone. Doin' this, it's easy to pretend for a second. Pretend that we are normal, that the cure ain't failin' anyone. Maybe pretend that I'm someone else, someone who ain't so messed up over touch, that he's someone else, someone who ain't so messed up over...whatever he's messed up over. Pretend that we're just two normal people, with normal problems, two normal people dating, maybe one day, fallin' in love or whatever.

See, all that right there is what I took the cure for. I thought I wanted the fairytale, thought I wanted some dashing Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet, give me a house, a white picket fence, and all the babies I wanted, kind of like in all those romance books I like to read. Turns out, though, the fairytale is kind of scary, and I actually like being on my own, only thinkin' about myself. Turns out, touch is beautiful, uncomplicated, and I'm addicted to it, need it, but I don't need anything else to go along with it.

Leave it to Remy, though, a man who is eighteen years older than me, who sleeps with any pretty little thing of age, who screams 'heartbreaker' with every fiber of his being, to make me think about shit like the fairytale again. Oh, not with him! Not really. I'm too far out of my depth with him, he'd eat me alive. But still...tonight? I had fun. I enjoyed goin' out with him. I enjoyed flirtin' with him, and I loved dancing with him. My lord, I could see him, and he'd be fun, he'd be charming, hell, he even has a sweet streak in him, believe it or not. And when it's over, I could easily go to the next relationship, maybe a healthier one, and I could easily see myself fallin' head over heels for that guy, or maybe the next one...

And then find out I'm one of the unlucky bastards the cure will quit on. _POOF_! Goes the fairytale, and along with it, my stupid heart. It wouldn't take that much to break it, either, and if there's one thing that scares the shit out of me, it's that, and then havin' to live with it. Unlike everyone else, I won't get another chance, not if my power comes back.

Frowning, I press my face into his shoulder, breathin' him in, kissin' him, threadin' my fingers in his hair. That's the other thing. I've been watchin' the news. The cure is wearing off for some. It seems to only be a very small number, but who knows how accurate that number is? I mean, how many mutants do you think are runnin' up and shouting to whoever will listen that the damn cure they took just wore off? Not many, I'll guarantee you that. There's probably a lot more cases than have been reported.

Anyway, bottom line, I'm terrified that I'm next. It's probably the biggest reason for the push-pull behavior I have toward Remy. Push him away, because if my stupid power does come back, I can hurt him, _kill_ him, even; pull him back in, because if the cure wears off, touch is only on borrowed time, and I want to touch as much as possible before I can't anymore.

Maybe pullin' him back in is winnin' out right now, despite what I'd told him earlier. After all, if my power shows back up, he won't stick around long enough for the door to hit 'im where the good lord split 'im, might as well get it while the goin's good, right? All I'd have to do is make sure I didn't do something real stupid, like start to _really_ like him-

"Chere?"

Shit. I woke him up. He'll know I'm upset, too. Never would've pegged him for a sensitive sort, but man, sometimes I think Remy is more in tune with my feelings than I am. Maybe he's a telepath? No, I'd feel him probing my mind if he was.

"Chere? Wha's wrong?" His accent is real thick, his voice gravelly with sleep, and his eyes heavy-lidded and dim, but the hand that was on my shoulder is now rubbing the length of my back, and he'd just snatched my hand out of his hair and brought it to his lips for a kiss.

See? Sweet streak, he has one.

"Nothin', sugar. Just tryin' to go back to sleep," I lie to him. Because hell no, I don't want to talk about what's buggin' me.

He rubs his mouth against my palm. "Said it earlier, girl, y' a terrible liar."

"Would you rather I was a good one?"

He chuckles. "Non, y' good at plenty of other things."

He drops my hand off on his chest, circling his around my hip and under, guiding my leg up across his hips as he pulls me up for a kiss. My god, have I mentioned yet that Remy feels so incredibly good? Lord, between the deepening kiss, his arm tightening up around me, crushin' me against him, the feel of him throbbin' against the inside of my thigh, and the light stroke of his hand back up my leg, caressin' up the inside of my thigh, going up, up...

"Mmmm, that feels good," I murmur against his mouth, closing my eyes as his fingers slip inside me, first one, then a second one, a third. My lord, he's good at this. Based on what I'd read in all those romance books, I'd expected being fingered to be just mimicking the motions of sex, just pumpin' fingers in and out. Apparently, Bobby had thought something similar, and I remember that being uncomfortable. Remy, though, he doesn't do that. He's movin' his fingers, rubbin' that nice little spot up there, the same one he hits during sex. Doesn't feel the same, it's not as intense, and it drives me nuts when he does only that and doesn't touch me anywhere else.

Like now. And damn him, he knows it, too.

I try to rub up against him, but he doesn't let me, clamping his arm down tight around me.

"Si impatient, ma cherie," he croons French into the side of my mouth, drivin' me even more crazy as he pulls his fingers out to touch all around, everywhere but where I really want him to.

"Dammit, Remy," I hiss at him. I love-hate it when he teases me.

He suddenly kisses me hard and rolls us over, his fingers slidin' back in, his mouth quickly moving down. I close my eyes and just drown myself in the sensations, how good it feels, his hand workin' between my legs while he kisses, licks, sucks, and nips at my breasts, the scratch of his stubble across my skin as he kisses his way down to my navel... Oh my god, oh god, yes, I know where this is going, and hell yeah, I open right up for him, hopin' he'll take the hint and hurry it up a little gettin' down there.

Which, of course, he doesn't, he takes his sweet time doin' what he wants to do just the same, kissin' down along the inside of first one thigh, then the other.

"Remy, _please_ ," I beg. Hell, I'm practically whimpering, I want it so bad, and he finally moves up where I want him, and oh my lord, the combination of his warm breath, the anticipation of what he's about to do, and the increased pressure of his fingers-

"O-ho my god, Remy, _now_!" I shove my hand in his hair, and he finally, _finally_ , gives me his mouth, right where I want it, just as I'm about to orgasm, and _damn_ , does that send me through the roof!

He doesn't even give me a chance to come down from it, either, he just scoops me up in his arms and settles in for a longer haul, licking, kissing me back up, and just when I'm about to go again, he sucks me up into a tight kiss, takin' it to a whole new level of pleasure again.

I know I yelled his name, yelled some other stuff, too, but just like every other time he makes me come that hard, I just kinda blank out, my body clenches up too tight, and I feel like I can't move for a minute. When I can finally feel myself startin' to relax, I feel like I can start breathin' again, I look down at him, watchin' him as he kisses me, watchin' him as he turns his face to kiss the inside of my thigh, then looks up at me as he makes his way back up, droppin' kisses along the way.

I feel him brushin' up along my leg when he stops at my breasts again, and now, I'm starin' down between us, at _him_ , thinking about what I'd imagined earlier this evening, while we were dancing. When I'd started all the blushing, and he'd started all the teasing. Just one flirty comment from him about why he liked my mouth, and _bam_! The first thing I'd imagined was going down on him. I mean, I'm real turned on by the idea of it, but I ain't ever done it. Bobby always just wanted to get it in, and Jackson had turned red and said something about only wantin' it the way god intended it or something, so yeah, I'm curious. Honestly, I wanted to do it to Remy the first time we hooked up, but since he hadn't initiated it, I wasn't about to, and then when he did, I got all shy. Call it silly, if you'd like, I know some guys have said there's no such thing as a _bad_ blowjob, but I mean, c'mon! It's obvious Remy's been around every block out there at least twice, so I can't help but wonder how I'd stack up to past experiences, y' know?

Ah, hell. I'm just gonna do it. He's been practically beggin' for it all night, anyway, and he did try to keep his trap shut like I told him to.

He still lost, the stubborn, argumentative ass just didn't want to admit it. He's made up for it in spades, though.

He's back up now, kissin' me, and I let my hands roam, runnin' up his ribs, down his back, over his hips, and then I slip a hand down and get ahold of him. He immediately pulls out of the kiss with a catch in his breath, closin' his eyes and groaning low in his throat as I rub him just how he likes it, hidin' a smug grin into his shoulder as he gets a bit slick in my hand. You have no idea how much of a turn on it is, gettin' this guy going, makes me want to-

"Chere, you keep doin' that, and this all gon' be over before it even begins," he breathes out, opening his eyes.

"Can't have that, now can we?" I tease him, pulling my hand away. "Roll over, sugar."

He raises brows at me, but complies, rolling onto his back, tucking one hand behind his head and watchin' me. I lean down over him, starting first at the base of this throat, droppin' kisses as I skim down his chest, his abdomen, hips, and when I hear him growl out a curse in French once he realizes where I'm goin', I move on down, pushing his legs apart, and sliding a hand up his thigh to grip him again.

"Looks like all those comments about my mouth got you somewhere after all, huh?" I ask him with a lick of my lips, tryin' like _hell_ to play this off bold, sexy, and, most importantly, _without blushing_!

Must've had some success, because his eyes widen, he swallows hard, and he drops another French bomb as I drop my face and slowly pull him in, tasting him, gettin' comfortable with the feel of him in my mouth.

"Ohhhh, fuck...Anna," he groans, one of his hands moving to the back of my head, his body all tight and tense as he tries to be still. Honestly, I don't think I'd mind him movin' once I get the hang of this, but right now, I'm glad he's holdin' back a little.

A couple of minutes into it, he's gettin' all slick in my mouth and I'm getting more confident, so I start experimenting a little, movin' my mouth in different ways, pulling back at times to lick at him and then takin' 'im back in, sucking hard, then soft, then poppin' off before going back for more, all while trying to use my hands, too. I say trying, because this all apparently takes more coordination than walkin' and chewin' gum at the same time, so I'm...clumsy. Yeah, that's a good word, clumsy.

Looks like I ain't doin' too bad, though, I think I found something he really likes, 'cause now his breathing is real ragged, and there's a bit of a sweat sheen on his skin.

"Chere, I'm 'bout t-to go," he stutters out (I _love_ that stutter, it's a cute switch from the smooth talker he usually is) a few minutes later, his hand gettin' heavier on the back of my head, his fingers curlin' up in my hair, and my lord, yes, he _is_ about to go, I can tell by how he feels, how he tastes, and how he's diggin' his heels into the mattress... I swear to god, it's like I can actually _feel_ what he does, something I've thought a couple of times before with him, I wonder-

"Ohhhhh...oh fuck...Anna...dammit, tha's...th-tha's _good_ , you suck me so _fuckin' good_ ," he groans out, low and harsh as his body jerks up tight and he comes, one hand fisted in my hair, the other in the bedsheets. I shiver a little at his words, because _damn_ , it's hot as hell, hearin' him talk like that, hopefully he'll do more of it!

I grip him a little tighter with my hand, pull him a little further in, keepin' up the intensity til he's finished, and then start to soften up around him as he relaxes. I like it when he lets me ride it out in a similar fashion, so I figure maybe he'd like it, too.

Next thing I know, his hands are pullin' me up, draggin' me over his body to smash my lips against his. Hard as the kiss started, he quickly gentles it, one hand rubbin' my back, the other cupping the back of my head. He holds me there even when he finishes the kiss, holds my lips just over his, his breathing still heavy. Then he quickly kisses me again and breaks away, his head falling back, and he loosens his grip on me.

I move down and settle into his side, head on his shoulder. I don't doubt he can get it up again real quick for actual sex, but honestly, I'm worn out, and a gal needs her beauty sleep. He doesn't push for more, just drags my leg up over his hips, and relaxes back into his pillow, his hand still resting on my knee, his other hand still laced up in my hair.

This right here, it feels damn good, him playin' with my hair, his other fingers lightly caressin' my knee. I close my eyes and turn my face into his skin, kissing him, breathing him in, steeping in the heat off his body, just soakin' up all this touch.

"Anna, you're fuckin' amazing, girl. Absolutely fuckin' amazing," he breaks up the quiet, his voice thick and drowsy. He turns his face toward me and presses the bridge of my nose against his lips for a firm kiss, and then lays his head back down, chin resting on my forehead. "'Night, chere."

"'Night, swamp rat," I reply, rubbing his chest, closin' my eyes.

It's then that I realize a few things. One, I snuggled up to him on my own, without even thinkin' about it. Two, I guess I really am kinda stupid, 'cause I actually kinda like this guy. Not just for sex or touching. Okay, well, I knew that one all along, so I guess two is actually that I don't want to fight it anymore. Anyway, three, good, bad, or otherwise, I think I will see him again. Maybe. We'll see how I feel in the morning. I mean, what can it hurt? It ain't like it'd be anything serious, just casual, just havin' fun, he says. What's so wrong about that?

Maybe he ain't such a bad idea after all.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Remy's pov, and this is the chapter where I start earning that dirty talk tag;) Also, French is not a language I speak, so any mistakes are Google's fault.

11:01 P. M.

That's what the time reads above the elevator as it opens up. I pull Anna in with me with every intention of kissing the hell out of her all the way up to my floor. Mon dieu, she's had me wound up since I picked her up earlier, when she'd greeted me with her trademark sucker-punch smile, and all wrapped up in a soft sweater that goes down over her thighs and boots coming up over her knee, lookin' like something so damn warm and lush to sink into. And goddamn, that little flash of bare leg just over the top of her boots, makin' me want to get down and lick my way up into her panties? And all those sultry laughs, flirts, and sass, all while cheerfully slurping down oysters and smacking her lips at her first taste of absinthe? Mmm-hm, girl's kept me burning hot all evening.

Damn, am I ever a happy man for gettin' a third date out of this woman.

I back up til my ass hits the rail. "C'mere, you," I croon at her, leaning back and pulling her up between my legs, "come here, and let me kiss you like I been wantin' to ever since you set out y' front door earlier."

"Uh-huh, _kiss_ me? Yeah, that's what you were thinkin' when you took me out for oysters and alcohol, huh?" She smirks up at me, sliding her hands up over my shoulders. "Real subtle there, sugar, tryin' to get in my pants again."

Chuckling, I lean forward a bit and slip my arms up tight around her. "I ain't ever been subtle about that, girl." I pull her up on her toes, so that I'm just thisclose to kissin' her. "But that ain't why I took you out for oysters. Did that 'cause oysters are delicious." I lightly kiss her, running a lick over her lower lip. "Figured a little river rat like you might like 'em, too." Another kiss. "That they just so happen to be an aphrodisiac is just a bonus, yeah?"

She gives this husky little laugh that kind of turns my knees to jelly, and rolls her eyes. " 'Yeah, Anna, I'm always tryin' to get in y' pants. Naw, Anna, I didn't take you out for oysters to get in your pants. But yeah, Anna, I kinda did, and Anna-chere, it'd be _great_ if it worked.' " She nails my accent in a little sing-song voice. "And callin' me a river rat? My, my, Remy, such compliments to sweep a girl right off her fe- mmhmn."

Oh, lookin' to get swept off your feet, eh? Well, here, let's see how far this kiss gets me, yeah? And damn, what a kiss it is! She tastes like her last drink and her beeswax chapstick, her mouth's all soft and warm, like she is, pushing up into my chest, in my hands, and hooo-boy, that jag in arousal comin' off her...

I lick into her mouth and run my hand down past her ass and back up, dragging her sweater u- oh, holy shit, she ain't wearin' underwear? How the hell did I miss that earli- wait, no, there they are, itty bitty lace panties, half her ass is bare in my hand... god, that's fuckin' hot... I could easily-

No, don't want it like that this time, I'll hold out and properly fuck this woman in my bed. I can tease her a bit now, though, wind her up. Moving a hand down a little further, I grab her up and press her in, letting my fingers slide up and rub along all those sensitive little places I'm gonna lick here in a bit.

She tears her mouth away and pulls my face into her throat, stretching her neck and practically purring while I kiss her, bite her... Fuck, she's got the smoothest skin... her smell, makes my mouth water up, remindin' me of how her sheets smelled like oranges and sex after I had her last time.

The elevator dings, the doors open, and I pull my hand out of her panties and straighten up her dress, never even once loosening up my hold on her. "You was sayin', chere?"

"I was... I was, um... sayin'..." she tries distractedly, staring at my lips, smacking her own. Then she stiffens, snaps those eyes up at me with a brow up, and tugs on my hair to make me listen. "Looky here, Cajun, you just might be a mighty fine kisser, but now... _river rat_? You just called me a _rat_ , sugar, can't kiss that one away-"

"Oh non?" I interrupt, pulling her out of the elevator, "now there's a challenge I don't mind takin' you up on, chere, not at all."

You just watch me, girl, just watch while I kiss you senseless clear on into my bed, and then fuck you so good, you forget the damn sun's comin' up in the morning. I bet you don't say another word all night about how I called you my little river rat.

* * *

Emma Frost leans back comfortably, eyes closed, hands clasped over her belly, and feet crossed, flinging her telepathy out far and wide across the astral plane, testing the boundaries of her mind. She isn't looking for anything or anyone in particular, just seeing how far she can go. It's an exercise she has practiced daily since her mutation had been triggered in Stryker's camp at the tender age of twelve, ever strengthening to her full potential, ever fine-tuning her control over it.

It's that power and cpntrol that'd kept her alive and relatively left alone while in captivity (physically, anyway). It's also what had allowed her to find her older sister, Adrienne, from her cell, and kill her with a mere thought for selling her out and putting her there in the first place.

A sharp flicker of fear stabs through her reach, a mutant signature, obviously male. Out of curiosity, Emma hones in on the mind lighting up red, quickly finding him. A brush against his thoughts, and Emma learns that his name is Alan, he's cured, and being attacked-

Suddenly, there is another stab, another scream. Emma frowns and ignores it at first, until that mind attempts to grab at her, reaching out for her…

A telepath. Male. Also cured, but recently re-powered, and he's just been shot-

Another...another...another… All mutants, all had taken the cure, all attacked... Another… _more_ …

Emma starts to smile, realizing what is happening, and quickly reaches for Cerebro, channeling her power full force, seeking out several minds all at once, all of them former students of Xavier's Institute, all them cured. One is in his bed, sleeping, another is out in a bar, his attention on the attractive lady smiling at him, another is working a street in Philadelphia, leaning into the passenger window of a car that just pulled up-

"Oh, shit," Emma breathes, watching as the man behind the wheel suddenly lunges for the girl. What had initially registered as a male signature is now a metallic buzz, and when the girl jumps back with a scream, the _thing_ tears through the car after her, a flash of eyes and a zap cracking the space between them. She falls to the ground, her body a heap of twitching muscles. Emma watches in equal parts fascination and horror as the girl's attacker nets her and takes to the sky, and she follows them all the way to their destination.

"And so the game truly begins," Emma smirks as she pulls up and slowly slides back into her chair.

* * *

"I _am_ a pretty damn good kisser, ain't I?" I flirt at Anna between kisses, backin' her up into my bedroom. I've got her smashed tight against my chest, a big handful of her ass, and I still ain't got her close enough.

"Full of yourself, ain'tcha?" This, smirked into another kiss, right before she sinks her teeth into my lip.

"Non, you the one that said it, I'm just agreein' wit' you." Christ, I want her, have a quarter mind to bend her over my dresser, tear off her panties, and take her for a fast, rough fuck in front of the mirror-

She licks where she bit me and grins. "Sugar, that right there's a real good habit to start."

-the other three quarters still wants to pin her naked to the mattress, feel her tits bounce under my chest while I'm on her, in her, I still want to see her face, her mouth, her eyes when she comes... Oh hell yes, I wanna watch her face when she comes.

"Yeah? Ain't the only good habit I started wit' you, chere." I kiss along the line of her lower lip. "My first one, I started it when I fucked you the first time, up against my front door, made you cry out my name." I lightly rub my cheek against hers, knowin' she likes that, likes the scratch of my stubble. "Did that in my bed right after, too, where I had you again, already flushed and wet, you scratched my back all to hell and yelled my name even louder." I nip at the corner of her jaw and let my charm loose. "Makin' you say my name is turnin' into my very favorite habit, Anna, and here in a minute, I'm gonna have your pretty legs wrapped around my head while I eat you, then, I'm gonna pin you to the bed and fuck you slow, tease you, make you scream for it, and the louder you scream, the harder I'll fuck." I squeeze her ass and lick into the shell of her ear, making her shiver, suck in her breath, and dig her fingers into my shoulders. "And when I make you come, I wanna kiss you, I wanna swallow down every yell, every cry out, every little gasp and moan you make til I'm done fuckin' you into my sheets."

Anna, the little minx that she is, she bites my ear around a low laugh as thick and sultry as Mississippi air. "Well. You want all that, why don't you start doin' something with those lips besides flappin' 'em, huh?" And then shoves her fingers into my hair, pulls my face to hers, and lays into me with a little head spinning lip-smack of her own.

_Yes, ma'am_.

* * *

Ororo Munroe sits in her office, listening to Kitty chattering her report through her laptop, struggling to keep a tight lid on her impatience. Despite her best efforts, the outdoors darken with cloud-cover, and the wind picks up.

"-just a simple hack, really, you'd think these guys would be way more careful in their cyber security. I mean, look at the military! Just _try_ phishing them with a simple e-mail-"

"Katherine, please," Ororo interrupts the highly animated young mutant in a deceptively soft voice. She is well acquainted with the younger mutant's effervescence, and truthfully, she likes Kitty Pryde, usually finding her to be bright and entertaining, at the very least. However, tonight, she simply is at her end. Being headmistress of the institute has been dragging at her spirits, and lately, she's felt suffocated by the tedium, the massive responsibility, the being pulled in so many directions at once, the constant _needing_ from someone else, seemingly _everyone_ else...

By the Bright Lady, all she wants is just a damn minute to herself, alone with the sky, thrilling in the raw power of her mutation humming under her skin, through her veins, deep in her bones-

"Yeah, anyway, you don't want those details. Right. So, like, yeah, you know how that mutant registration thing didn't pass the other day? Totally a good thing. I hit jackpot and got into something big, like some black ops type thing- and man, it's so cool, that kind of stuff is everything and nothing like it is in the movies –anyway, yeah, found some pretty freaky stuff. Like, documented experiments on humans and what not, and then, there was all this stuff about these robots, like those Sentinels from back when, I guess, only these looked like something out of one of those old Terminator movies-"

"Good evening, Ms. Munroe, Miss Pryde," Emma interrupts crisply, quickly striding into the room. "Forgive my interruption, but I think you'll want to hear this," she adds, turning to Ororo.

Ororo immediately perks up, noticing the lack of dry, snobbish humor usually coloring the other woman's tone. She doesn't particularly like or trust Emma Frost, but she readily acknowledges her usefulness, and she absolutely acknowledges the telepath's sharp instincts. If Emma's wind is up, she'd do well to take note.

"Cured mutants are being targeted, _now_ ," Emma begins without further preamble, "several have been captured, including two of yours, Miranda, or Stacy X, as you call her, and Maggot, totaling nine taken so far, and probably counting. Two mutants were also killed while resisting capture."

Kitty gasps and Ororo's eyes mist over as the wind suddenly whips and shrills against the mansion.

Emma flicks crystalline blue eyes at Kitty and continues, "you were saying something about new Sentinel proto-types, Miss Pryde? That may have been what I saw. The _things_ that took these mutants, they were human, even initially registered as such," she taps her temple, eyes going back to Ororo, "but changed upon seeing their targets. For instance, the one that took Stacy X, he was one of her," she glances at Kitty, " _clients_ , and was broadcasting the usual state of mind one seeking her particular services would do, until he actually looked at her. Then it was as if the brain was shut down and in its place was a computer."

"You were able to follow where they were taken?" Ororo asks, and at Emma's nod, she continues, "then we will rescue them." Her mind is already turning to the logistics of such a mission, already running through her team's strengths and delegating tasks best suited to them, already thinking of what to do with the victims once-

"Um, Storm? Maybe it's time to, you know, bring in the other students that took the cure," Kitty suggests worriedly. "I mean, it's totally cool if they, like, stay with us, until it's safe, even if they don't really come back, right?"

Ororo purses her lips. She would prefer to let those children live out their cure in peace before approaching them, which was why she'd readily agreed to letting Emma come when she'd approached her several weeks earlier. However, lives are at stake, and one of them is dear to her, even more so to her feral lover.

Following her intuition, Ororo swiftly makes her decision. "We will go to our former students," Ororo begins firmly, rising from her chair, "and encourage them to accept our protection for a time. I will also lead a rescue for the ones already taken."

She looks to Emma. "I want that location you said those captured were taken. Also, Logan is out of range to badge him, and I cannot reach him by phone. Find him, and tell him to come home. Katherine, you will stay as you are, keep digging. And contact the War Room in ten minutes, I want you to present to the others what you've just told me."

As soon as both women leave to their respective tasks, Ororo closes her eyes and breathes in deep. She's afraid. Not for herself, no, never that; having such an elemental mutation makes her near impossible for most to even get close to, let alone touch. But for the mutants captured tonight? For her former students, now targets once more? For her friend?

She's absolutely terrified.

And absolutely furious.

" _Dammit_!" She snarls, eyes flashing solid white as a lightening bolt rips the sky, followed by a crack of thunder.

* * *

"Ah, fuck, Anna," I breathe out after _that_ kiss, droppin' my face into the curve of her shoulder and letting her sweater fall to the floor. "Vous êtes toujours voler mon souffle, oui? Et ils m'appellent le voleur!" I nibble over her collarbone, pulling in the sweet, orange spice of her skin before lifting her up into bed. "Y' breathtakin', chere."

"You and those lines, Cajun," she mutters with a wry twist of her mouth, scooting back to the middle of the bed.

I pull off one of her boots and kiss into the hollow of her ankle. "Ain't no line, beb." And it isn't. She's always had that affect on me, she's got this thing about her that kind of makes me stop breathin' for a second, knocks all sense clean out of my head.

She laughs softly, then closes her eyes and hums with pleasure when I lick up the inside of her calf. It irritates me a little, how quickly she dismisses what I said, but I guess I can't blame her. It's not like I haven't used lines on her in the past to get right where I'm at now, and she knows it.

I snap my teeth over her kneecap, eyes moving up over her while I take off her other boot. She ain't wearin' nothing now but her bra and panties, a dark green and black number that fires up her eyes and stretches out thin over her tits and hips. Ah, Christ, just lookin' at her… laid out, opened up… lily-white skin and pink nipples, pinker clit, showin' through lace…

Now, if that ain't an invitation, I don't know what is. A woman don't wear something like that for a man unless she wants him to take it off with his teeth.

With a flick of my tongue under her knee, I start a slow skim of kisses and bites up the inside of her thigh, sliding my hands under her ass, tilting her up a bit when I'm up between her legs. I give her three teasing licks and a kiss over her panties before shoving them to the side and lightly lickin' up one side of her pussy and down the other.

"More," she demands, and starts to shove off her panties.

Nipping at her, I grab her wrists, hold her down and go in for the kill, eating her just the way she likes it, takin' in every little noise she makes, every little twitch in her thighs, and every buck of her hips. I open up and tune in to how she feels, and when she starts winding up to come, I pull her panties back in place and suck her clit hard through the lace, chargin' it up.

"Whoa!" She yells, hips rolling, heels digging in, hands jerking in mine. Before she can finish, I light up her panties all the way to a little 'pop' of nothing, and move on, kissing my way up her flat belly.

"Dammit, Remy," she snaps out between pants, "I was almost _there_."

Smiling against her sensitive skin, I spin my tongue into her belly button. "Hold still, Miss Impatient. Told you I wanted to kiss you when y' came, yeah?"

"Wasn't nothin' stopping you."

Laughing now, I nip into a ticklish dip in her ribs, making her gasp, squirm, and swat at me. "Meant I wanted to kiss y' pretty face while you're comin' hard and wet on my dick, chere."

She shivers and grabs at my shoulders. "My lord, sugar, your _mouth_." She leans up and smashes her face into mine, sucks on my lower lip.

Her reaction's got me laughing low in my throat and just about this close to flippin' her on all fours, pulling her head back with a fistful of her hair, and getting her from behind. "What about my mouth, sweetheart? You like how I kiss you? How I go down and eat your pretty little pussy? Or maybe you jus' like hearin' me talk about how I get turned right the fuck on when y' come all over me everytime I lick it or fuck it?"

"Oh my god, get your ass up here, and give me that filthy mouth, Cajun," she growls, flopping back and yanking me up with her.

I do what she wants with an idiot's smile all over my face, and mon dieu, she's beautiful. _So damn beautiful_ , with that wild hair and smart mouth, her gorgeous tits about to pop out of her bra, and her fierce green eyes... just a few ticks off a fast growin' list of things about her that turns me completely stupid. "Very filthy mouth, that likes to do very filthy things, especially buried between y' legs. Got you all over my lips, chere." I lean in close, stopping just before I kiss her, and lick my lips, slow. "Mmm, tastes real good."

"I swear to Jesus, you could probably get away with sayin' anything to me, so long's it's dirty or in French. Or better yet, both," Anna mutters, pulling a condom packet out of my back pocket and shoving it in my teeth before impatiently pushing my pants down. Girl doesn't even open 'em up first, just shucks 'em right off my hips.

Grinning at her impatience- hell _yes_ , she can tear off my clothes to get it anytime she wants -I pull back and take care of things on the protection front. "Oh, is that right? Voulez-vous que ma bite que mauvais, chere? Vous faites, je peux dire, ta chatte est tellement humide et prêt pour moi." I take her wrists in one hand, shovin' 'em up over her head while I reach down, open her up, and push in fast, hard, makin' her yelp and clench up. I slowly pull back out, nearly all the way, and she squirms, lifting her hips and trying to free her hands. Leaning down, I kiss the end of her nose, lick her upper lip, bite the lower one. "Now, hold on, girl, while I fuck you how I promised you earlier."

And just like I'd told her I would, I go slow from there, pullin' out to start shallow and give her just a bit more at a time, and just like I knew she would be, she's wild for it, cusses me for going slow, tears her hands free and grabs at me, cries out for harder...faster... nails scraping up my back… my shoulder in her teeth... God _damn_ , this girl's demanding, wild-eyed, and noisy in the sack. "That's it, Anna, buck, and bite, and scream all you want. Give it _all_ to me, beb," I growl at her, nipping at her throat, licking up a drip of sweat trailing from her hair. "God, chere, y' so tight, so fuckin' _wet_ for me, you like it when I fill you up like this, yeah?"

She licks her lips, grabs my ass, jerks me into her _hard_ , and comes, flat takes what she wanted, with her back arched and head thrown back.

Roughly grasping her jaw, I turn her face to me and kiss her, catch all of her scream in the back of my throat. I don't let up none to let her come back down yet, either, I pin her to the bed, slide my arms up under her, and get mine deep, hard, and heavy, makin' her yelp in my mouth and her body snap up into me with each thrust.

"You. Feel. So. God. Damned. _Good_ ," I manage out of clenched teeth, pounding each word into her, digging my fingers into softsoftsoft skin... can feel my face screwin' up tight... fuck her harder _faster..._ she's, she's-

" _Fuck,_ Anna," I gasp out, jerkin' hard as I finish.

When I finally catch my breath, I drop a quick kiss into her shoulder and roll off, roughly dragging her with me. Anna, though, she ain't havin' none of that kind of handling, letting out a little yelp and snapping her teeth over my nipple in protest.

Reaching down, I smack that gorgeously rounded backside. "Already up for another go, chere?"

She relaxes into my side and pats my chest. "Shush, you, and calm down." She turns her face into my shoulder, rubbing her lips over my skin. "Tonight's been fun, Remy. Had a real good time."

Smoothing back a fluff of white curls tickling my nose, I kiss the top of her head, stay there for a minute, lips in her hair, watchin' her drift off. "Me, too, Anna-chere. Me, too."

* * *

Emma wrinkles her nose and sighs with irritation as she drops connection with Wolverine. How she _hates_ the savage bite of any mental connection with him. The man himself is one to be avoided in person at all costs, with that nose of his sniffing out the best of cons, but telepathic communication with him reeks of atrociously basic instincts that always leaves her feeling like she needs to go catch her next meal with her teeth and eat it still alive.

"So uncivilized, such an animal," she mutters disgustedly. She wonders if the X-Men are truly aware of just how close to the surface his feral nature really is. She doubts it.

"And now, let's see what our pretty Cajun is getting up to," she purrs out with a nasty smile, closing her eyes as she channels Cerebro to find Gambit. "Alright, there you are- oh! Naughty, naughty thief," she laughs as she watches that little comedy in the making. She can't read him outright without cracking that static around his thoughts and alerting him, but she can feel what is leaking out of his empathy right now with his guard down. At present, he's riddled with sated arousal, pleasure and other feelings- "oh my! You foolish, selfish man!"

Emma lingers for a moment, watching the lovers and feeding off the intense chemistry sparking off the two warm, drowsy Southerners...

Pulling away and opening her eyes, Emma smiles a little breathlessly and contacts Storm, letting her know that Wolverine is on his way.

What she doesn't tell her is that he will be dropping in on Anna for a little visit.

"Can't have her letting that little tidbit slip to our resident Casanova, now can we?"

* * *

12:26 A. M.

That's what the digital clock on my nightstand reads. If I had any sense, I'd go on to sleep for a little bit. I know I ain't anywhere near to done havin' the woman curled up into me, and I know she's gonna want to finish out her nap before another go.

Anna Marie. One hell of a one night stand turning into one hell of a something else. Tangling up with her was an impulsive mistake, I knew it the second time I took her home, ignored it then and have every time since. Hell, lookit, I've taken her out three times now, and look at where I got her now, eh?

Then again, I've always been a bit impulsive, and it ain't like it's first time that has gotten me in a pickle or two. Kind of comes with the territory, growin' up a street kid who don't dare let go an opportunity to over-indulge in something too good to pass up.

I look down at Anna, lightly tracing her spine with my fingertips, skippin' over her bra strap. She's still as she was when she'd passed out earlier, her head still on my shoulder and a hand still spread out on my chest. And it's nice, real nice like this, I like it, the warm puffs of breath across my skin, the feel of her breasts smashed up against my ribs, and feelin' her all wet and hot between her legs, pressed against my hip.

Having her like this, watchin' her tuck herself up into my side and rub my chest til she fell asleep, I kinda feel like I just _won_ , and it ain't no secret that this old white boy's addicted to that feeling.

All part of her attraction, she ain't easy, not in any way that really counts.

About that, the shit that counts. I can't say what it is that happened last time I was with her, don't know what it was that changed for her that night, but ever since she gave me that blowie ( _oh-ho-ohhh_ fuck, is she good at it, too, inexperienced, but intuitive, and the _things_ I'd do for another one), she's softened up a whole bunch toward me. Softened up enough to curl up under my arm all on her own after, softened up enough to let me take her out again, softened up even more tonight, finally relaxing and letting me in a little.

And me? I've been eatin' it up like how that hungry little street kid I once was used to tear into a real meal any time I'd luck into one.

I slide my hand up her back and into her hair, and she stirs and shivers, goosebumps poppin' up all over her smooth skin. I pull the covers up and turn on my side toward her, pulling her in closer.

"Mmmmn, go 'way," she mumbles irritably, jerking her nose out of my throat and makin' a thick curl fall over her face, tangle up, and irritate her further.

"Non. Y' cold, chere," I chuckle out, pushing her hair out of her face. That annoyance out of the way, she settles down and adjusts herself more comfortably, and quickly goes on back to snoring.

Closing my eyes, I breathe her in deep, unhookin' her bra and rubbin' the length of her back with one hand, the other cupped over those cheeks and pressing her in. Mon dieu, she feels so goddamn _sweet_ , all soft and sleepy, and Christ, my dick is pushed right up against her, too, right up between her legs... Mmm-hm, I want her like this, maybe this time, she'll let me, I know she's on birth control, seen it in her bathr-

Ah, _fuck_ , my phone's goin' off, and I know that ringtone. It's Stormy, and it's an emergency.

I ease up out from under Anna and roll out of bed, snatching up my phone. This shit right here is exactly why I turn my comm badge off around her, knowing full well Stormy'll call if she can't reach me that way.

"'Allo, padnat." I answer, sitting back on the edge of the bed, looking back at Anna as she sits up with a sleepy frown. Her bra falls off, and my eyes go with it. _Dieu_ , that girl's got some tits on her-

"Remy. We're running a rescue tonight, I need you back here now."

"I be there in a little over an hour." Reaching over, I run my fingers along the outside of Anna's thigh. Dammit, I can practically feel those eyes sharpening on me.

"Good. And Remy?"

"Yeah?"

"You're badge is dead."

She hangs up, and I let out a sigh, turning back to Anna. This ain't gonna go well. "Chere, I gotta go. I be headin' out here pretty quick."

"Uh-huh," she drawls lightly, arms folding over her chest. "At," she glances at the clock, "twelve-thirty in the morning, sugar? Kinda late, ain't it?"

"A bit," I agree with her, standing to pull on my pants. "Real inconvenient timin', non?"

"Uh-huh," she drawls out again. "Lemme guess, work related?"

"Mmm-hm, y' good, sweet," I answer, sitting on the edge of the bed again to pull on my boots. I'm already irritated with the conversation, even though I know it's all of my own making. "But then, already knew that, yeah?" I try with a flirty grin over my shoulder.

She's not at all impressed. "Like hell, you do corporate acquisitions or whatever it was you said," she drags out too slow and too damn sweetly, "but then, we already knew that, too, huh?"

I sit up, elbows on my knees, and slowly let out my breath. "Lookit, Anna, I can't do this now-"

"No?" She cuts me off, flattening her mouth and narrowing her eyes, "'cause you see, there's a _real good_ chance I won't wanna hear about it later on."

"That right?" I shrug, everything about her tone just now hittin' me all wrong, and turn back to gettin' my shit ready to. I can feel her burning a hole in my hide as I go.

"Okay, then, that's how we go, huh?" She finally snaps out, yanking her bra back in place, "hand me my dress."

I do as she asks, and she snatches her dress out of my hands and jerks it down over her head in a huff.

It's a cold trip down the elevator, with Anna gone stiff and silent, a stark, irritating contrast to how it'd been on the way up earlier. It's an even colder trip to her apartment, and I can tell that it's a prickly little burr up her skirt that she has to grab me with both arms and press up so close into my back the whole way there to keep from falling off my bike.

And me? Oh, well, it only _just_ hit my stupid ass what a mess I'd made of all this. I can't say that I had it all figured out, how I was gonna deal with her when shit hit the fan, but I sure as hell hadn't figured on caring about it all that much past making sure she didn't kill my ass in a Danger Room sequence later on or something like it.

What I _sure as shit_ hadn't planned on happening was letting her any kind of up under my skin, but look at me now, yeah **?**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vous êtes toujours voler mon souffle, oui ? Et ils m'appellent le voleur! = You are always stealing my breath away, yeah? And they call me the thief! (Fun fact: did not know souffle was 'breath', I only know it as a food, so reading that line every time I proofed this thing, I laughed, because I'd think he's telling her she was always stealing his food away. Silly, I know. Moving on.)
> 
> Voulez-vous que ma bite que mauvais, chere? Vous faites, je peux dire, ta chatte est tellement humide et prêt pour moi = Do you want my dick that bad, chere? You do, I can tell, your pussy is so wet and ready for me.


	6. Chapter 6

It'd taken me a little over an hour to arrive at the mansion, where I'd literally ridden in just to hop my ass up into the Blackbird and have Stormy throw my uniform at me (changing clothes while strapped in the seatbelt would've been a hell of a lot more interesting if more X-girls had been present). Now, twenty minutes later, me, Stormy, and Bobby are out in the middle of fuckin' nowhere, New Mexico, eying up the rear-end of a nondescript, sprawled out, single-story office building.

Prospero Clinic. Supposedly a place for impressive fixes of all sorts of ailments. Makes all kinds of sense for a quack to set up shop somewhere lookin' like it's straight out of These Hills Have Eyes, neh? I bet they get folks by the hundreds suckered in through their front door.

I can't really joke, though, seein' as how according to Emma's rundown of what's what, there's at least forty suckers crated up like dogs in the back of that building. Sixty people total, only twenty of 'em are those cured mutants snatched up tonight, and four of them are dead. The other forty are human, regular clients walking in who thought participating in a drug experiment sounded fun.

Heh, looks like maybe we found forty reasons right here for the 'do not eat' label on the soap I use.

" _All captives are kept in individual cells, mutants kept to the east wall, the humans kept to the west wall_ ," Emma's voice echoes through our heads, " _with all twenty Sentinels that went out earlier situated a little further down along that west wall, closer to the exit, still powered down._ "

I squirm a little and squelch the urge to kick her out and slam down all mental shields. Like it'd keep her out if she really wanted in, but it'd probably take me out something bad, and it ain't lookin' like that's her aim. Not yet, anyway.

At any rate, I know she ain't digging around up there, good as she is, I've felt her every time she's taken a crack at my head. I just don't like letting in a spook, and she's a real nosy one. If it wasn't for the fact that this is inarguably the easiest and most efficient way to run this rescue down on such short notice, not a chance on this side of hell would I have ever cooperated.

As it is, this whole show is setting my nerves on edge. This place, it ain't sitting right, and everything I am is tellin' me to get out of here, and so long's Frost doesn't kick off a world tour upstairs, I'll play along to get this over with as fast as possible.

" _The staff has been as busy as little bees in a hive, pulling information regarding tonight's little enterprise from each Sentinel's memory. As soon as they're finished, I'll get the door as planned._ "

Ten-four, Ms. Frost. Now, get the fuck out of my head, yeah?

* * *

James 'Logan' Howlett growls low in his throat as the stink of that good for nothing Louisiana swamp trash fills his senses, a ridge of hackles zipping up the nape of his neck and over the back of his head. He can smell the hormones that must've poured off the other man, the sweat, the sex, too, and the like smells of the woman he'd been with.

This isn't an unusual combination of scents coming off the Cajun, and normally, it barely even registers past the fact that with the smell comes the man, and he can't ever stand being anywhere near that cocky son of a bitch for very long. Tonight, though, that scent fucking _registers_ as he stalks down the hallway on the third floor of the apartment building. It's all over the place, several layers of it, old and new, all the way to Rogue's door, and she's the woman he smells in the mix.

Logan doesn't know how it is that Remy LeBeau has come to know Rogue. He only knows it'd be one hell of a coincidence if they'd simply run into each other, and that simply running into people is very rarely a coincidence when it comes to Gambit.

The skin over his back and shoulders twitches at the thought of that low-life getting to his little Marie, a feisty, hot-tempered girl he'd taken under his wing a few years back, and it makes him a little sick to imagine the look of her when she's casually pushed to the side for the next woman in line.

Not that Logan cares about Gambit's womanizing habit. He's done his own fair share of that in his day, he certainly has no room to talk on that score. Not to mention, in his experience, even stupid women know a one nighter or fling for what it is when she's having one. But Rogue isn't other women. She isn't stupid, either, but she _is_ starved for touch, starved for connection, completely unsophisticated when it comes to men, and no where near Gambit's speed.

"I'm gonna stab that low-country bastard in the throat next time I see him," he snarls under his breath as he knocks on Rogue's door. He can hear her fidgeting inside, but she's making no moves toward the door. Knowing she's ignoring him, he impatiently bangs on the door again. "Kid, I know you're in there, open up, it's important."

He hears her swear a rapid, fluent blue streak upon recognizing his voice, and grins. Rogue has a bite to her that most people are too scared to use around him, hell, she has more of a bite to her than most people combined, anyway, and he's missed her.

"Comin'," she calls out, and the door jerks opens up to show a stunning, sharp-eyed and steaming Rogue. "What's so damn important it's got you about to tear down my door at this hour of the night?"

"Missed you, too, kid," Logan grunts, moving on in past her, inwardly cringing at how she reeks of Gambit. _Gonna kill that goddamn Caju-_

"Yeah, sure, come right on in, go ahead and make yourself at home," Rogue remarks sarcastically and shuts the door.

Logan watches her stride past him back into her living room and plop down in her chair, never once loosening up the stubborn clench of her jaw. He can already tell that she's going to be difficult. Fucking great. They both need that about like either of them needs another hole in the head.

Gambit's the last he smells on her. No doubt that wise-ass Cajun fuckhead has done something stupid to piss her off, which pisses him off, making him growl out about it and pop his claws...

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Rogue huffs at him with a complete lack of patience, "yes, Logan, you smell a man, 'cause I'm seein' one. No need to get your tail all in a knot, so chill, quit sniffin' the air, and tell me what's goin' on."

He forces out all the offending smells through flared nostrils, and narrows his eyes at her. She's got it wrong, it's not necessarily her _seeing_ someone that's pissing him off, it's the _someone_ she's seeing...

Suddenly, the situation hits him, and Logan feels his lip twitching as he squelches the urge to gnarl out a dark chuckle.

She's screwing Gambit, and has no clue that he's an X-Man.

To hell with killing that idiot coon-ass outright, better to pop the tab on a beer and watch his Rogue rip him to pieces instead. Then he'll scrape what's left of him up off the floor and have a go at him, show that cocksure little prick what it's like to fuck with his people.

Thoroughly satisfied with that thought, Logan follows Rogue into the living room and takes the loveseat. "Decent place, kid. Doesn't look like you're doing too bad."

She lifts a brow. "Uh-huh, I'm doin' fine," she drawls out, "now, you gonna tell me what's so important that's got you huntin' me down, and in the middle of the night no less?"

"Rogue, you're in a heap of trouble, darlin'. You, about twenty other kids, and anyone else who took that cure."

* * *

Emma taps a finger impatiently, mentally sweeping the length and width of Prospero's back facility. Something about the scene before her is making her instincts stand up and howl, but she can't quite pinpoint what it is.

Twenty activated Sentinels, promptly shut down as soon as the cured mutants were sent into human hands. Those unfortunate souls had been subsequently strapped down, had fluid samples drawn, and then were cataloged, the four corpses taken off for similar procedures and prepared for dissection. Now, with all live captives sedated and in their cages, the egg-heads are buzzing back to the Sentinels, uploading information from each robot's memory and chattering over the results.

"-this went even better than expected," one such egg-head excitedly tells another, the second man clearly his superior, "as you can see with this one, not only did he have immediate access to all information regarding his target with just the name given, but upon seeing the people she was with, he was able to register and match those individuals and quickly pull up like information on them as well."

The second man nods approvingly, a satisfied smile on his face. "Yes, yes, much better than expected, indeed." He claps the white-coat on the back. "Damn good test run tonight, Tompkins, especially considering how it was sprung on us last second. There are improvements to be made, but he'll be pleased with the results nevertheless. Wrap it up, and let's call it a night, shall we?"

"Yes sir. Almost done here, all that's left to do is-"

Emma loses interest in the conversation, and looks back toward the Sentinels, still feeling like she's missing something...

Except that she's missed nothing. With her gifted intellect and Omega level telepathy, coupled up with a cunning intuition to rival her father's, she doesn't _miss_ things, and nothing of this place is so terribly sophisticated that she hasn't seen it or heard of it before...

Pursing her lips agitatedly, Emma grabs three lab techs with top security clearance, making one open the back door, another open all containment cells, and then whips through the last for information needed to access their database. Next, she hits all personnel at once, a heavy blot putting them to sleep, and then flings her mind off in other directions.

"Have fun, my darlings," she chirrups into four very different minds, "it is all yours for the taking."

* * *

" _Have fun, my darlings, it is all yours for the taking._ "

It has to be said, the sight that greets us as the door pulls up before us and Emma pulls out is maybe just a _tad_ unnerving. The floor's littered with lab workers drooling it out in sleepy-land, and there's a shit-ton of modular containment cells lining up either side of the facility holding the captives, all of 'em stoned out of their heads.

And then there's the Sentinels. Twenty of 'em, all standing, all shut down, eyes closed, and chests moving like in a slow, easy rhythm of deep sleep. And looking just as human as any of us. Kind of creepy, no?

A quick glance around the rest of the joint turns up a pristine clean, top-notch laboratory set up, and the whole thing triggers a couple of memories and a sour twist in my guts. It don't matter that it's been near to twenty years since Stryker, and only a few years less since I got tangled up with that doctor of his again, shit like that don't ever really leave you.

We immediately hop to it, and it's all quick work. Emma's already opened up the doors to the holding cells, so while Bobby's layin' out of his trademark slip 'n slides, me and Stormy start with the mutants, pulling them out and laying them at Bobby's feet.

Once we've got all the mutants piled up on top of Bobby's toes, he ices up some walls around 'em to make sure no one falls off and starts out the back for the 'bird, and me and Stormy head for the other side of the building to start getting the humans. Looks like maybe the drugs are starting to wear off, the one Stormy's headed for first, a man somewhere in his forties, just started waking up.

We're almost done, hard part's over, and it looks like everything's gonna go off without a hitch. Still can't shake the feeling that shit's about to fly sideways any second, though. Even Frost, for all that she was tellin' us everyone's sleeping sweet dreams and the place is clear, she was plenty keyed up, too.

Me, I'd like to get the fuck on out before the other shoe drops.

* * *

Emma watches the X-Men executing the rescue with an efficiency she can readily appreciate, smiling tightly at the realization that, despite Ororo's ineptness as a headmistress, she's an excellent field leader, even better than the previous one, Scott Summers, had been. Ororo has flexibility where Scott'd had none, and had he still been alive, the rescue would've been done his way, and it would've been an utter shambles.

It irks her a little to admit that. Emma always did have a disgustingly soft spot for Scott, ever since he'd befriended her back at Stryker's and she'd developed that ridiculous teenaged infatuation with him. Had it not been for that insufferable Cajun, promising out one side of his mouth while lying out the other, she and Scott would've gotten out with him, Scott probably never would've joined the X-Men, would probably still be alive, and-

Emma frowns sharply and swings in for the cloudy, confused mind just now opening up and dragging at her. A man, one of the humans, is waking up from sedation. Her earlier unease returning full force, Emma dives deep into his mind, into his memories, the experiments, the drugs, and one injection in particu- "oh, bloody fucking hell!"

She has just enough time to fire off a warning to the others, and then she's smashed out cold by black, laced with a faint buzz.

* * *

" _Get out of there, now! It's the humans, they're-_ "

Emma cuts out as suddenly as she'd popped in, and that, plus the urgency in her tone slaps my nerves and sends a shot of adrenalin through my system.

I jerk my head over at Stormy as she bites out a curse and drops the guy she was helping. Her eyes flash white, his flash red, and she narrowly dodges the zap that follows. She lights his ass up just as his eyes flash again, and next thing I know, the human slung over my shoulder jerks awake, same time as eight other humans snap up with flaring red eyes.

Ah, _fuck_ , some of these bastards are Sentinels!

I immediately dump my rescue and turn tail out of here, because I'm about to start blowing shit to smithereens, and it ain't so smart to be doin' all that inside a building. Two Sentinels close in on me, hands up and laser happy, and I about tie myself in a knot to avoid getting hit.

Meanwhile, Stormy's yelling at Bobby to keep on after the jet, and he don't waste any time zipping right on out with five Sentinels hot on his tail. Stormy fries the head off another Sentinel, and sweeps up and out over my head-

" _Sonovabitch_!" I grit out, a blow crashing practically right up under my feet, throwing me for a near face-smash into the pavement. A little twist, and I land on my feet instead, just in time to see both Sentinels comin' up fast, hands up with more blasts on the way.

"Now, don't take this the wrong way, I can see why you wanna take this old Cajun to the ground, but you ain't quite my type. Maybe we just be friends, yeah?" I let a handful of cards to slide comfortably between my fingers, give 'em a charge and send 'em singing. The time it takes to blow the first Sentinel's hand off at the wrist, I've already shot off more cards, taking out its other hand, ripping through a good-sized chunk out of its neck, and blowing open its side.

Didn't even slow the damn thing down, it just keeps right on coming.

"Aw, now, lookit, takin' that rejection deep and throwin' my manners back in my face like that. But that's jus' fine, mes amis, I been spoilin' for a good match up for a while," I whirl out grinning, cards in hand and already calling up a charge-

I suddenly feel _off_ , sluggish and heavy, like I've just been snuffed out with a thick, wet blanket. The cards I'd just let loose flutter out uselessly maybe two feet in front of me, nary a single singe on an edge.

Well, that ain't cute, my powers are gone.

"Ask for a good fight, and you shall receive, yeah?" I twist out of another hit and into a series of back handsprings to get some distance from 'em while making myself a harder target, blasts kicking up chunks of pavement at my hands and feet as I go. I do get a little bit ahead, but it ain't by much, and they've cottoned on to my style, sharpening up aim til I'm finally nicked in the shoulder.

"G-god _dammit_ ," I stutter out in pain, the shock jerking my body up rigid, then drop to the ground, shaking, my chest kind of feeling like it's about to explode for a second there, that arm gone numb and twitchy. Holy shit, electrocution, even at lower voltages, fuckin' _hurts_.

That shot was definitely enough to take me down for a minute, and those Sentinels aren't giving me much time to shake it off, either. Ducking out from another hit just in time, I snap out my bo staff with my good arm, swinging a nasty hit into the neck of the first Sentinel, putting a bigger dent in the damage I'd already done, and follow it up with kick that nearly snaps its head completely off. Immediately feeling the rush of my powers returning, I reach out, grabbing that fucker up under the chin, and send a charge whining up into its skull before shoving my foot in its back to send it crashing into the other Sentinel. The explosion knocks the other one back, but it catches itself in mid-air, and I feel my powers damped out again as it comes back at me even faster than before, with one shot after another, keepin' me hopping on my toes just to avoid getting hit again.

I better find a second to get a good lick or two in there somewhere, else this thing's gonna smash my ass dead on the ground before too much longer...

* * *

"Holy shitsnacks, these guys just don't let up," Bobby Drake grumbles, turning to face the three Sentinels advancing on him. He has only just haphazardly dumped all of the rescued mutants in the Blackbird, and now, he's back out in the thick of things.

Not that he's really complaining. This isn't his first mission with the X-Men, but it is his first rescue, and it is the first time he'd been _chosen_ to go. Previous times, it'd been a case of some major catastrophe happening, and everyone with a pulse had been pulled out to suit up.

"Alright, guys, come at me, bro," he calls out with a grin, icing through to his core. He quickly sheets the machines over with a thick coat of ice, grinning wider as they come to a halt. "Ugly ice sculptures for your wedding, anyone? No? Okay, then." He punches a thick icicle through the first one's head just as he sees a red glow at the hands and eyes of the other two.

"Newp, don't think so," he taunts, immediately driving another icicle through the second one's head. "Geez, this is the best they can come up with? These things are easy to bea-"

He's cut off as the third shatters the ice, he's suddenly sucked hollow, and his body loses the ice and goes back to regular old flesh and blood. Disoriented, he isn't fast enough to avoid the Sentinel's continued attack, and the next thing he knows, he's hit with a blast that splinters through his ribs and tears into his chest.

He knows it's a kill shot, it's too hard to breathe and the sick sucking noise that comes with each attempt tells him a lung was hit. Desperate, he thinks if he could just freeze the tissues, freeze off the bleeding, maybe he could buy himself enough time to get back to Hank in the med bay...

* * *

Ororo sweeps up further into the air, the two Sentinels she'd distracted away from Bobby giving chase and rapidly gaining. She can't _fly_ , per se, rather she rides the winds, so she isn't nearly as fast as her opponents are, but she's not at all concerned with getting away from them.

Turning to face them, she loosens the tight grip on her power, reveling in the rip and snap through her senses as she calls lightening down, and snarls when they both dodge her, having smartened up to her maneuvers. She feels the static in her eyes as they flash white, and lightening zaps again, this time, blowing through the chest of one. Grinning fiercely, she zips another bolt in its head, her satisfaction at watching it spark out and fall away intensifying the stormy sky, and-

Ororo screams a curse in her native language as she suddenly feels stamped out and begins a free-fall. Flinging her body out, she crashes into the remaining Sentinel, and grabbing its head in her hands, she shoves her thumbs knuckle-deep in its eye sockets. Feeling her power flare back up, she unleashes a rip of lightening and splits its head in two pieces.

Her assailants dealt with, she looks down and immediately sees the other two X-Men are in a bad way. One Sentinel is peppering Gambit with attacks, keeping him strictly on the run and not giving him any chance to defend himself, and Iceman is down with a bloody hole in his chest and a Sentinel rapidly advancing.

Throwing her arms out wide, her body crackles as she pulls down bolts though a ferocious thundercrack, killing the last two Sentinels and the immediate fight.

She knows it's not over yet, though.

With a weight in her chest, Ororo turns and breezes back in through the back of the building, back to the other humans. Looking at them, all she sees are people- men, women, a couple of teens -sleeping. She knows that they _could_ be Sentinels, they _could_ be more of those monsters, just waiting to activate, just waiting to hunt, capture, and kill more...

But she doesn't know for certain, all she has to go on was Emma's cut off warning. They _could_ be just people, waiting to be rescued...

Pursing her lips and hardening her heart, Ororo flexes her fingers and sends a nasty shock through thirty heads, and finishes the threat then and there.

She sees absolutely no evidence in the aftermath that she hasn't just murdered thirty innocent victims.

* * *

The flight back to the mansion was a tense one, all three of us wound up tighter than cats in a roomful of rockin' chairs. Bobby had more or less stabilized himself, having iced over that nasty gash in his chest, though for once, he'd been real quiet, real shook up. No one knows what happened to Emma; someone apparently found her in the Cerebro chamber, passed out smooth with blood running out of her nose, and now she, along with the rest of us and all the rescues are in the med-bay for medical attention.

Well, except Stormy. She's the only one of us who didn't get hurt, she's just here to make sure I stick around to get my shoulder looked at. I kept telling her I'm fine, but as per usual when it comes to this sort of thing, she ain't hearin' me.

Looking her over, I open up a little to get a gauge on how she's holding up. She's been brittle ever since she walked back out of that building, and tearing herself to shreds for going back and killing the rest of those people.

Some might say that Stormy's decision to cut 'em down is surprising, that it was out of character. I'd say those folks don't know her too well; that woman, for all her mellow manner, is a fuckin' beast when it comes to protecting her own.

It isn't but a few minutes later that Hank gets to me, and all it takes is a quick exam and an x-ray to show that Stormy's nagging was all for nothing. Unlike with Bobby, my hit wasn't all that serious, just a stun shot meant to hurt like a motherfucker and slow me down. The most damage it'd done was ding about every nerve in my shoulder, give me a nasty burn, and cause a fuck-ton of deep bruising.

Of course, Hank had only been too happy to pull blood for all those tests I was supposed to get back when I joined up, too. Won't go into how ridiculous it is, getting a scolding from a kindly, blue beast of a man with a pair of itty bitty spectacles perched up on his nose, and in the softest voice, no less.

"See, Mr. LeBeau, that wasn't so scary, now was it?" Hank teases with a clap on the back and fangy grin. "Come see me in a couple of days about your test results." He gathers up all nine vials of my blood and runs off for the lab end of the med bay.

Hopping off the cot, I flash Stormy a grin. "Happy now, _maman_?"

She twists her mouth up in tired humor. "I wouldn't go that far, but yes, I'm pleased that I did not have to 'fry your ass', as you so eloquently accused me of threatening earlier, in order to get you down here. And I'm glad that it is nothing serious." She glances over at Bobby.

"Hey now, padnat, none o' that." I reach out with my good arm, pull her in, and give her a squeeze. "You get too spun up, and y' drown us all, no?"

Stormy chuckles and puts up with me for a second, then steps back. "No drownings tonight, my friend." Then those baby blues get that bossy glint in 'em as she tells me, "though I might reconsider that if you're late to the War Room. We're de-briefing with the rest of the team in twenty minutes."

"Chere, I'm startin' think maybe you got it in for this old boy tonight, yeah? But ouais, I be there."

Twenty-two minutes later, I've showered, smoked, drank a cup of coffee and made another, and I'm headed for the War Room. Soon as I set foot through the doors, I stop cold and stare for a second. There's Anna, a sight for sore eyes if there ever was one, sitting next to the only empty seat in the room, snip-snapping with Logan at her other side.

Mon dieu, how the fuck does she _do_ it, just snatch up the breath clean out of my lungs every single time I see her?

Anna catches me out of the corner of her eye, freezes mid-sentence in whatever she's tellin' Logan, and flings me a wide, surprised look. "Remy?"

Aaaand then those eyebrows slam together like a thunderclap, and those beautiful eyes sharpen up and narrow down into one of the most impressive death glares I ever did see. Sayin' something right there, seeing as how Belle had a look to blister the hide of my bones even on her milder days.

"Mornin', chere," I nod at her, moving into that free seat. Logan growls so hard, he's foaming at the mouth, and - _waait_ for it- yep, there it is, the _snikt_ of those claws.

I don't pay that asshole any mind, though, not when I got a certain green-eyed, stripe-haired hellcat I can't ever really quit thinkin' about sitting right next to me. I swear it, I can just see the steam blowin' out that girl's ears, and going off the way those eyes are spittin' sparks, I'd say maybe I'm about in for it, no?

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

 

It only takes Anna about another split second to catch her wits and open up that mouth, no doubt about to fly right up my ass, and Stormy, she neatly sucks up the wind out of that sail with glittering eyes and an opening right on into the de-brief.

"Good morning, X-Men," she starts out, eyes sweeping the room, finally stopping on Anna for a second, "Rogue."

Predictably enough, everyone else turned to look too, making Anna shift irritably in her seat. She's practically chokin' on her own bad temper, keeping it to herself under all that attention, and about all she manages is a jerk of her chin and a polite smile in Stormy's direction.

Well, polite- _ish_ , I guess. Girl wound up lookin' more like she just swallowed a waterbug instead of reuniting with any big pals.

"As most of you are now aware, Bobby, Remy, Emma, and I ran a rescue early this morning," Stormy goes on, "last night, there were twenty mutants attacked and captured, of which four are dead. The rest are here with us now, and appear to be mostly unharmed. They, along with Emma and Bobby, both of whom were seriously injured during the mission, are in the med lab with Dr. McCoy." Stormy pauses, eyes sweeping the room again. "It would appear that, despite the mutant registration bill not passing, the threat to those who took the cure is still imminent. All mutants attacked last night were cured."

Cue every pair of eyes in the room but mine and probably Logan's flying back to Anna, this time all concerned, with more than just a smidge of sympathy. She bristles up, but doesn't say anything.

"The news is currently in a tailspin over last night's attacks, with several eye-witness accounts. Unfortunately, many of these accounts are entirely false or unreliable memory recall, and most of the images and videos caught are very poor or altered." Stormy click-clacks away on her laptop, and a couple of seconds later, a video pops up on the comm screen. "This is a video submitted to the news, and the only one I've found that accurately shows what was happening last night."

She hits play, and it shows a kid getting his head cracked open on a brick wall, sagging dead and bloody to the asphalt before getting snatched up and taken off. The footage is shitty quality, taken from someone's phone, and the owner's shakin' so badly, it's little difficult on the fine details, but there ain't no mistaking it's one of those Sentinels that got him, not once you've had one of 'em breathing down your neck.

The room's quiet for a minute, then Logan growls up, "darlin', that isn't anything like what the news is throwing out at us right now. They're talkin' alien abductions and what-not." He leans his chair back on two legs, chewin' his toothpick a little harder. "That ain't no alien."

"Indeed, not. That," Stormy looks back a the screen, "is a Sentinel."

Logan nods to himself while most everyone else goes up in a little fuss, actin' like Sentinel programs starting up, getting shut down, and starting up again is something brand new. To be fair, though, the last Sentinel thing that went down and got busted up was several years ago, and most of these guys were just kids back then, too young to care or pay attention to anything goin' on in the world.

Nothing like being in a roomful of folks just this side of legal drinkin' age who don't recall big shit from eight, maybe ten years ago to make you feel old, yeah?

Stormy quietens everyone down and goes on, "Emma described these newer Sentinels as being humans, programmed with a trigger to fully transform upon sighting their targets. What we saw last night appeared to be a facility used to convert people into these Sentinels. There were sixty captives when we arrived, the twenty cured mutants, the rest humans. Some of the humans transformed during the rescue, and it was strongly suspected that the others were also converted, though inactive." Stormy's face closes in on itself, and her mouth pinches up. "All threats in that location have been neutralized, though I'm certain there are similar facilities in other locations."

"So, these rescued mutants now with us," the homme with the wings, Angel, chimes in, "clearly, they can't go back out in the world if there is the possibility of more of these Sentinels, they're still known targets. However, to let them stay here is to bring the Sentinels here, too, and I don't need to go into why that isn't ideal. What do you plan for them?"

Two points for Wings. This place, it's got lots of kids, and some of them ain't even mutants. Of course, Warren's also has a personal stake here. Him and his woman, Betsy, they got a baby in the daycare whenever they decide to breeze in States-side.

Still a dick move, tossing out folks, most of them kids, too, who likely have an asshole Sentinel they don't begin to stand a chance against, hunting them down.

"I do not plan anything for anyone," Stormy shoots back evenly, "I simply welcome those in need to stay if they so choose. You forget, we have several of our own who took the cure, two of which we rescued last night, and one sitting in here with us right now. I will not refuse her," she shoots Anna a look, "or our others assistance, nor the ones whom we do not know. The cure has already worn off four of last night's victims that we know of, possibly more; we will know more as they awaken and Hank completes his analyses, and we will let them know approximate time-frames for the return of their powers."

"Hold up, Storm," Anna finally pipes up, that sweet as all fuckin' hell accent thick and loud with agitation, "you say all that like you know for a fact all those folks' powers are coming back."

Here we go...

"Rogue, the cure was, unfortunately, a failure," Stormy answers, and I gotta give her credit, she couched it all in the easiest manner, like it ain't something that's gonna completely ruin Anna's day for a minute. "It will eventually wear off of anyone who takes it."

"Heh, unfortunate," Anna snorts out, leaning back in her chair with deceptive coolness, arms crossin' her chest. "Since y'all know so much about all this," she shoots me a sour look, "I don't suppose you know when that's gonna happen for me?"

"Rogue, perhaps a visit after-"

"How long've I got, Storm," Anna cuts her off flatly. "I figure it ain't no big secret to anyone here but me, so go on, spill it."

Stormy pauses, then begins slowly, "it has been estimated that you have a few weeks before the cure begins to gradually wear off, with you probably being at full power within three to six months. You will likely get a more accurate time-frame if you visit Dr. McCoy."

"Uh-huh." Anna works her jaw, narrowing up those eyes again. "You say you aren't planning anything for anyone, but it sure sounds like you're doin' an awful lot for a handful of folks, gatherin' 'em up like you are, and sendin' Logan after me."

"I did not send Logan after you, Rogue, though I cannot say that I am disappointed that you're here. If nothing else, you will be fully educated on your situation." Stormy don't even bat an eyelash, skirting around the truth like she just did. Most folks don't realize it, but she's every bit as good at a half truth and a head game as I ever was.

"My _situation_ ," Anna drawls out, and there's enough acid curdling that girl's tone to peel paint off the walls, "sounds like you're doing a little more than just offering a poor little ol' cured mutant some assistance. My _situation_ sounds like a few of my plans and," she cuts me the stink-eye again, "some of my _fun_ ," back at Stormy, "are about to blow off like a puff in the wind, too. So, yeah. Unfortunate. You'll have to forgive me if _I'm_ a mite disappointed that I'm here."

A _mite disappointed_ , my ass...

* * *

Emma slowly moves along the burnt and blistered confines of her mind, carefully tugging and gathering ends to sear them into a spiderweb of scars across, flickering violently at the pain. She still doesn't know exactly what it was that had hit her, but whatever it was, it had left mess to clean up, and it fucking _hurts_.

She doesn't worry about the pain she finds along this process, though, she knows her physical self doesn't feel it, it is only her own visualization of the damage done and her expectation of how it _should_ feel. Instead, she carries on unhurriedly, despite her underlying run of impatience. Impatience, because the quicker she patches things up, the closer she'll be to physically waking up.

And she needs to wake up. She has a to-do list that has been adding up by the minute since everything kicked off last night, and she's not yet even half done. She isn't aware of how much time has passed, as such a thing doesn't necessarily or consistently apply itself here, but she can't help but feel like she's lost too much of it already. Too much time lost is too many opportunities missed.

Still, she keeps herself calm and even, bootstrapping her mutation into a healing factor, meticulously patching up her mind-space back into health.

* * *

The rest of the de-brief is as boring as they ever are, and I quickly tune out to half an ear and give into the distraction of the woman sittin' ram-rod stiff to my right. Anna's all sulled up and tight-jawed, doin' her damned best to ignore everyone but Stormy.

Wish I could say the same for everyone else. Unfortunately, thanks to Anna's general reaction toward me, not only are the both of us pullin' all the stares from around the room, but we're getting all the whispers, too. Given our respective reputations and Anna's cured state, I know the rumors are already flyin'.

It hasn't escaped my attention the distance everyone but me and Logan's made sure is between them and her, either. Not so much physical distance, though I see the folks on the other side of Logan and me glancing over at Anna and then subconsciously leaning away. Naw, the distance, it's something I can feel, and I can see it in the looks they keep flinging her way.

Fuckin' morons, the girl's cure hasn't worn off yet, the hell are they so scared of, that pissy look all over her face?

Not to take away any credit where it's due, Anna's got a top-notch bitchface.

I let myself look her over for a second, just takin' her in. She's lookin' a lot different from how I usually see her, her hair pulled up in a ponytail, the curls a little frizzed and a lot wild, not a smudge of make up on her face, and wearing a pair ratty-ass lookin' jeans, a well worn Ol' Miss hoodie, and flip-flops. Not at all the cleaned up bombshell I was with last night. Or any night, for that matter.

I'd still like to haul her off, just as she is, to the closest flat surface and nail her so hard, she can't sit straight for a day or two.

Soon as Stormy wraps things up, people start clearing out, and Anna jumps up, one of the first to go. I almost let her go, figuring it's probably for the best to let things be, I didn't have any business messin' with her, anyway. Last split-second impulse has me hoppin' my ass up right there with her. Might as well, no? There's no good in leaving this sort of thing alone if she's back.

I catch her just out the door, hand on her arm. "Anna-"

She jerks like I just shot her, and spins on me with bright eyes blazing. "Don't you call me that. Not here. Not ever. It's Rogue. But I guess you knew that already, huh?" She doesn't give me a chance to answer, she twists her arm out of my hand and turns back down the hallway.

"Fine. Rogue," I keep after her, "and yeah, I already knew that. Think maybe you an' me, we go somewhere and talk about that, chere?"

Words said to poke the beast and bring her back from running, and damn, does it ever work.

"You _asshole_ ," she snarls, whirling back right up under my nose. " _Talk_! What's all this about _talk_? That ship done sailed, Remy, the hell even makes you think I wanna hear it now?" She demands, getting louder by the word, anger thickening up that accent even more. "I mean, ya lied to me, _fucked_ me, then ya lied to me some more, made me think-" She cuts herself off and jabs a finger at me. "And you _knew_! You knew the _whole_ time, ya-"

"Arretez, girl! Stop it!" I tell her in a low voice, catching her hand and pulling her in close so the others quickly filling up the hallway can't hear. "You wanna talk, wanna take a bite out of my ass, throw things at me, whatever, fine, let's go somewhere and do that. But not here, yeah?" Because the rubber-neckers be rubber-neckin'. Not that I personally give a damn about gossip, but she will...

She falters a bit as she realizes we have an audience, and she flings a hostile look at the others. She turns back to me, flushed red as a tomato, and jerks back, all stung. "Let go a'me," she snaps, quickly backing up. "Just leave me the hell alone, ya hear? J-just-"

I reach for her again without thinkin' about it. "Lookit, chere-"

" _Don't_!" She spits out, throwing her hands up and backing further out of my reach. "Don'tcha dare touch me," she hisses through clenched teeth, "and don't call me _that_ , either, I ain'tcha _chere_ , I ain'tcha _anythi_ -"

"Gambit," Stormy interrupts with steel in her tone, "and Rogue," she softens way up, this big smile splitting her face as she approaches, "it is good to see you again, my friend, despite the less than ideal circumstances." She stops next to Anna, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You look so well, too, and beautiful as ever."

I swear it, I hear Anna count to ten while she pulls in that temper. "Yeah, I suppose I'm doin' alright," she finally replies, slow and strained, "and despite the circumstances," she briefly flicks hard eyes my way before looking back up at Stormy, "it's good seein' you, too."

Gotta give it to Stormy, she ain't too shabby at de-escalatin' a situation. It only takes a couple of seconds for all the on-lookers to figure out the show's over, and it's not much longer before everyone heads on out.

Of course, that might also have something to do with Logan sauntering out of the War Room like he owns the damn place, barking out a promise to kick everyone's ass in a one-on-one, blindfolded Danger Room session if they didn't get movin'. Asshole then leans against the wall, crosses his arms, and levels me one of his long, unblinking wolf stares before turning to Stormy, then Anna. "Hey, kid. Speaking of the Danger Room, looks like you could blow off some steam. How about we see how soft you've gotten since you've been gone, eh?"

Well, can't comment on how she was while an X-Man in tip-top shape, but that girl's definitely got some nice little soft spots on her now that a man can appreciate-

"Yeah, think I might do that," Anna drawls out while sliding me another look to kill, then goes back to Stormy. "I'll be seein' you, Ms. Munroe. There a good time I can stop by this afternoon, have a little chat about what all's goin' on?"

Mmm-hm, that last bit was said a little too sweetly. Anna's missed Stormy, but she ain't letting her off the hook for meddling, either.

Stormy just smiles, as unruffled as she ever is. "Yes, this afternoon is good for a visit, anytime is fine. Now, go," her smile splits as she makes a shooing motion, "the Danger Room awaits, and I do believe that Logan has missed you."

Anna nods at her, ignores me completely, and joins Logan. Watching her walk off, anger giving a little switch to her hips, I can't help but notice that for all she ain't his kid, they sure as shit seem to snap and deal with bad moods in about the same ways.

Stormy's smile goes cool as she glances my way. "I see you and Rogue already know one another? An interesting story there, no doubt."

I shrug and flash her a smile. "As interesting as any other, I suppose."

"I'm sure. Come, join me in my office. I've further work for you pertaining to last night's mission. And, while we're at it," she lifts a brow and gives a knowing look, "perhaps you could humor an old friend with an interesting story on how it is you've come to know Rogue."

Newp. Kissin' and tellin's some bad manners.

* * *

Emma blinks out for a moment, the toll of spending so long stitching the walls of her mind back together tugging at her. She steadies herself and trails fingertips and eyes along the fresh, cleaned surfaces, searching. The moment she sees what she's looking for, she grins and pokes at it.

_It_ is one of the stars, a tiny, tell-tale pin-point of brightness that indicates the oncoming of consciousness, and she knows from experience that once the first one appears, others will soon follow, until the space is no longer flat, white walls, but diamond-bright and clear.

It feels like seconds, and then years, as the stars start popping up more and more frequently, bringing in the sound of a soft, faint buzz, and once there are enough for her to work with, she focuses on each of them, pushing and widening them, forcing more to shine in. Her irritation sharpens along with the increasing volume of the buzzing, and now, with more clarity about her, she can finally see what had happened back at the clinic. A trap... no, a defense mechanism, embedded in the Sentinel nanotech conversion...

A quick chase, an even quicker study of the attack, leaves her shaken and seething. A psychic backlash, triggered by a deep enough probe into memories, meant to kill... the efficiency of its design, the attention to fine detail...

Every mutant with any psychic talents has some form of mental protection, the greater the power and knowledge of mindscape, the more clever and effective the protection, and each individual has her own set of defenses, her own way of building them. This one is _hers_ , and the only reason she'd survived it was because her own defenses had been so greatly enhanced by Cerebro.

She tunes out the buzz and yanks on the stars again, pulling more and more out, opening... stretching... melding them together until-

Emma gasps and her senses fly open to bright lights, the smell of antiseptics, and the sound of beeping monitors. A quick glance around shows that she's in the X-Men's med bay, and that Dr. McCoy is hurrying his way to her side.

"Emma, my dear, good to see you awake-"

"Not now, Dr. McCoy," she snaps at him, sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge of the cot. She doesn't need him, and she certainly doesn't have time for him. She quickly locates Storm, licks her lips at what she sees, and reaches out to M-

"Ms. Frost, if you will-"

She ignores him all the way out the door, slamming it in his face, and striding purposefully down the hallway, her mind still in two different places, with three different people.

Once completely caught up on the current state of things, she smiles nasty, and swings out toward a young, tragic woman, one of many warm spots in the heart of one X-Man, and one of many cold haunts to another, confirming that particular situation hasn't worsened into a waste of her time.

Not that she'd expected it to, but one never knows with vegetables.

"Train wreck number two, coming up," she murmurs to herself afterward in a sing-song lilt, making plans for a little visit to a hospital in the very near future.

* * *

"Whatcha got for me, padnat?" I ask, walking on into Stormy's office, sliding into a chair and stretching out my legs. Can't help but make a face at the ache and pop in my left knee. Damn thing's been like this ever since I had it cut open after hyper-extending it here while back, and it gets to actin' up when I sit down too long after a hard run. Healing factors are great and all, but when it's kind of a joke like mine is, bruises and paper cuts heal up fine and fast, while shit like surgery to remove cartilage still takes a while, and it never goes back up quite the same way it'd started out.

Stormy rounds her desk, sits, and flattens out her mouth as she eyes me up. "You and Rogue. I'd heard what was said."

Mmm-hm, you and everyone within a ten mile radius. "I'm sure y' did."

"Did it happen before or after I assigned you to find her?"

"Well, now, I'd say maybe you're getting a little too personal there, yeah?"

She leans over her desk a little, eyes tightening up. "Considering that your ethics, trustworthiness, and professionalism as a member of my team are being called into question over the matter, no."

I raise brows at that. "Don' sugarcoat nothin' on my account, chere. Always like to know where I'm at wit' folks, me."

Her patience snaps, and thunder cracks loud. "Do not play games, Remy, I'm in no mood for it." She slaps both hands down, and demands, "did you, or did you not, get involved with Rogue while assigned to find her?"

Involved with her? Then? Naw, I'd just fucked her a couple of times, anything more didn't happen til well after I'd wrapped things up and reported to Stormy. "Non."

She stares hard at me. "Then you approached her after?"

Well, I didn't meet her for the first time then, no. "Now, that ain't hardly a smart move, is it? Seek out the target after the stalkin'?" Stupid as hell, is what I was, followin' my dick around like I did with that girl, for reasons besides the obvious.

Her brows shoot up. "It is indeed a small world, then, that you'd have known her before." She taps her fingers on the table irritably a couple of times, then relents just a tad, "though I suppose that would explain why you weren't pleased when you'd received the assignment."

"Heh, maybe," I shrug, grinning. Stormy can't ever stay pissed at me for too long, and I can already feel it, she's about done now. "Speakin' of assignments, you'd said earlier y' got one for me, yeah? Something to do wit' last night's little shitshow?"

"Indeed." She pins me for a second with blue cat-eyes to let me know she sees what I'm doin', but is lettin' me get away with the change of subject, anyway. "Tell me what you know of a man, Sebastion Gilberti."

I shake my head. "I don't." Then I lean forward, elbows on knees, "but I can, yeah?"

* * *

It is nearly twenty minutes later, and Ororo leans back in her chair, staring thoughtfully after the man who had just left her office, her mind going over their conversation and the general events of the morning.

She knows she'd let Remy off the hook too easily in regards to his situation with Rogue. She also knows him well enough to know that he hadn't told her but maybe half the truth about any of it. His answers were likely only the tiniest scratch off the tip of whatever iceberg is between Remy LeBeau and Marie D'Ancanto.

Which is an interesting development in and of itself, and why she'd backed off of him as soon as she'd learned what she'd wanted to know.

Rogue and Gambit. She never would've imagined such a pairing. She's not at all inclined to discourage them away from each other, either, not after watching the way they'd sparked off of one another earlier. She'd known immediately that neither of them had behaved in their usual manner, with Rogue never letting anyone in, and Remy only ever trying to get it in. Not with the intensity of her reaction to him, and definitely not with the way he'd chased her.

She smiles a little, thinking of how Logan will choke on his own growls over the whole idea.

She smiles a little wider and chuckles, thinking she'll step back and let things take their course. After all, she's always been one to enjoy a good fireworks display.

 


	8. Chapter 8

It's been two days since Stormy sent me sniffin' after Gilberti, and I'm smellin' a rat.

I chalk my hands and jump up on the uneven bars, swinging under, then pulling back and rolling up to stand on my hands. I hold it there for a minute, body pin straight and toes pointed hard at the ceiling, letting the exercise start to loosen up the brand new scar puckered tight and burning across my shoulder before falling back and pulling myself into a sequence of spins and flips over and between the two bars.

Gymnastics are, without doubt, the best part of my training. I've always had a knack for that sort of thing, startin' out from a short, scrawny kid who could hop up and squeeze into the damnedest hiding spots and escapes more easily than the others. Then, hoppin' fences, turnin' flips, and shit like that turned into something just plain  _fun_ , too. And once Jean-Luc snatched my ass up off the streets? He'd caught me at it soon enough, and then immediately introduced me to the mats and a slave-driver of a gymnastics trainer, Pete.

Jean-Luc, he'd been pretty impressed with how I'd taken to it. He'd also been impressed by quite a bit more, like how quickly I'd caught up in the schoolroom, and how clean I could swipe food off my Tante's countertops without her catchin' me. And there was that one time he'd caught me pickin' a guest's pocket on the way to the dinner table (I ain't countin' the other times I'd pulled shit like that, no one caught me, eh?).

He'd been impressed enough to begin what turned into years-long of training me to be a Thief. That'd started as a bunch of unpleasant and boring as all hell lessons in observation and planning, but he'd quickly moved on into showing me more interesting shit, like how to find things, dig up a ghosted trail when necessary. And if there's ever a thing that Jean-Luc has always excelled at, it's the pure damn obnoxious ability to unearth whatever the Earth has forgotten.

Me, I'd soaked up everything that man had thrown at me like a sponge, startin' out eager as hell to please and scared shitless that if I didn't, I'd wind up back where I came from. All that to say, with all that know-how rattling around in this old noggin, plus all the resources I've cultivated over the last twenty-some-odd years, I should've long since had this Sebastian Gilberti's entire boring life pulled up and in Stormy's hands.

Instead, I ain't hardly found shit on him past the fact that he's a recovering amnesiac shacked up with one Rose Gilberti. I can't find even the faintest whisper of his life prior to her taking him in, not an accident to match him up with, no name, no school records, no dental records, medical history, fingerprints, pictures, no known protection programs placements (the unknown ones, too), no  _nothing_. Homme seems to have literally popped up out of fuckin' nowhere a handful of months ago, making little splashes in the anti-mutant activities that have spiked all over the place recently.

And damn, does this cat hate us mutants. He's been getting real cozy with that Friends of Humanity asswipe, Graydon Creed, and Creed's got the resources to turn that hate into something.

What with his apparent non-existence prior to a month ago, along with his sudden political involvement, it won't be me sayin' Stormy's keyed up over Gilberti for nothing.

* * *

Emma breezes through the doors of the Long Term Acute Care Unit of NYC Health Hospitals/Carter, sends a mild zap at reception to be left alone, and carries on, completely unbothered, to the sixth of the facility's two hundred and one beds.

The young woman who has lived in that bed for nearly seventeen years notices her swift approach, and her dark eyes and darker mind flare with hostility. Emma takes no offense, as she hadn't expected the girl to be happy to see her, despite having never met her; she has only had two other visitors, and she apparently hadn't appreciated them, either.

Emma can't blame her, all things considered.

_"Hello, Sarah,"_ she greets the other woman telepathically, knowing she cannot physically speak, and not wishing to hold even a seemingly one-sided conversation for others to hear, anyway,  _"today, I can heal the part of you brain to unleash your mutation, and show your broken body how to use it to fully repair itself. Tomorrow, I can show you how to control it, and the day after that, I can walk you out of here._ "

Emma senses Sarah's immediate shift from defensive to suspicious, shot with curiosity, hope, and a fierce, desperate swell of  _want_.

Offering the girl a cool smile, Emma continues with her proposition, knowing Sarah will listen now, and she will agree to what she has to say.

* * *

"Who knew ice could itch so flippin' much," Bobby Drake mutters irritably, rubbing at the frozen gash in his chest through his shirt, wishing not for the first time that it was actually  _healing_. For all that it itched and turned red around the edges of the wound, where ice met tissue, according to Hank's tests and Emma's trip through -well,  _wherever_  the heck she'd looked, hell, he had no clue how she could've known anything of medical importance simply from a walk through his mind- it wasn't repairing itself. He didn't quite understand it all, but he recalled Emma and Hank talking something about how he'd managed to ice clear through the wound and into his core (something he'd never been able to do before, at that!) and then something about cryonics, and possible future surgery, with the help of some alien technology or another.

Or some shit. Whatever. He'd tapped out at that point, the science-y talk putting him to sleep. The long short of it is, the ice is what's keeping him alive; the wound is fatal, if he unfreezes, he'd likely die within minutes, and if he's lucky, he'll have surgery, because... _Aliens_!

He shakes his head. Of course, now, even after nearly three days straight of being stuck in the infirmary, nobody seems to know why he  _can't_  unfreeze if he'd wanted to. Or hell, freeze anything else, for that matter. He's  _stuck_. His power seems to have jumped, and now it's stuck, and it's pissing him off. He's also more than a little nettled by the suspicion that Emma knows more about his condition and situation than she's let on.

Bobby has never been known for cunning instincts or intuition, but you can't bullshit a bullshitter, and you can't prank a prankster for too long without him catching on. He knows Emma is playing them.

Scratching at the wound again, Bobby resists the urge to call for Hank and pester him again for more answers, knowing his friend is in his office, still talking to Marie about her lab results.

Marie. Rogue. His one-time friend, turned girlfriend. Now, his ex in both regards. He'd nearly choked when she'd stalked into the infirmary with all the force of a hurricane two days ago, scowl in place, jaw clenched, and absolutely,  _stunningly_ , beautiful. She'd ignored him while bee-lining straight for Hank's office, and they'd both come out a few minutes later, Hank with needles and empty vials, Marie with a flat, bitter expression on her face. Neither of them had spoken, and the one time Bobby had, Marie had shot him a wholly unwelcome look, and that'd been that.

Or so he'd thought. She'd surprised him again when she'd walked in the next morning, snapped on a pair of latex gloves, and proceeded to shadow Hank on his rounds. They'd checked on all twenty rescues before getting to him, and Marie had shown less than zero hesitation in jumping right in, checking his wound and getting his vitals without saying a single word to him.

Bobby can't say that she'd warmed up to him any further over the following two days, during which she'd apparently decided to hang out with Hank and play nurse while she waited on answers. It seems like the rumors of her going to nursing school are true, but he guesses she'd also taken up the notion of hiding out in the med-bay over possibly running into a certain Cajun who's a little old to be scared of the doctor.

He chews the inside of his cheek at that. Gossip spreads fast, and by the time she'd come in that first day, he'd already heard about her run-in with Gambit. Had she seriously not seen that he's bad news? Gambit's a sleaze, and he never even tries to hide it, for God's sake, what was she  _thinking_?

And Gambit...

He screws up his face in disgust, because it's just  _gross_ , playing someone so young, and so obviously naive as Marie. "Practically robbed the cradle," he mutters.

"Bobby!" An enthusiastic, teensy little brunette interrupts his thoughts as she bursts through the med-bay door and rushes over. "I'd heard about what happened, I've been so worried, like, I came home as fast as I could," Kitty continues, grabbing his hand and planting a quick, hard kiss on his mouth. "How are you? What does Dr. McCoy say?"

Bobby stares up at his girlfriend, at her wide, worried eyes and soft smile, and he feels... Well, he's not sure what he feels. He thinks he might be in love with her, but he's been feeling a little... _mixed up_ , and he doesn't really like thinking about it. "Hey, Kitty-cat, I've missed you. Hank says I'm stable, but obviously, an iced-over hole in my chest that won't heal makes him a little nervous." He gives her a wry look and admits, "makes me a little nervous, too."

"Like, understatement of the frickin' year, I'm sure," Kitty replies with a roll of her eyes and a strained smile. "Makes me nervous, too, especially knowing how short-handed he is down here. I mean, like, there's only one of him and like, what, fifty of you? What if-"

"Kitty, babe, it's alright, I'm fine," Bobby cuts her off with a reassuring smile. "Really, I'm fine. I mean, yeah, I've got a hole in my chest the size of Texas, but it's all iced over and everything. Just don't thaw me out, and I'll live."

Kitty's brow knits up, and she squeezes his hand. "Bobby-"

"I know, I know, but seriously, I'm  _fine_. And besides, Hank's got help, Marie's been down here-"

"Wait. What?  _Marie_? As in, like,  _Rogue_? She's back? Like, where? Here?" Kitty's dark eyes go wide, and she starts looking around the med bay.

"Yeah," he answers slowly, "she's in school to be a nurse, I think? And I don't know. I guess she's back?" Bobby shakes his head. "I don't know, babe, she doesn't really talk to me."

Kitty bites her lip and looks down, and Bobby feels worse. Kitty and Marie hadn't gotten real close, but they probably would have, if he hadn't... well, if he just  _hadn't_. He doesn't regret being with Kitty, but he does regret how he'd let things happen like they had.

"How is she?" Kitty finally asks, looking back up. "Like, I know about the whole Gambit thing-"

" _Shhhh_! Inside voice, babe." God, the last thing he wants is for Marie to walk out in the middle of them talking about  _that_. "She's in there with Hank, talking about her power coming-"

Kitty's hand tightens til her nails bite his skin. "Like,  _already_? Her powers are already back? Poor thing! I bet that's why Gambit ditched her-"

"Kitty. Babe.  _Stop_."

"-I mean, like, he's totally the love 'em and leave 'em type, anyway, but-"

"Seriously, I'm pretty sure I didn't hear her close Hank's door-"

"- _Jesus_ , that's like, a  _huge_  dick move- oh my god, see what I did there? I totally didn't even mean to -anyway, he's such a dick-"

Bobby catches movement from the corner of his eye- "dammit, Kitty-"

"Like,  _what_?" Kitty snaps at him, having worked herself into full rant mode and clearly mistaking his curse for disagreement. "Are you  _serious_? Gambit is a complete douche for what he did. He  _totally_  took advantage of her, I mean, she was his assignment, his stupid  _job_ , for god's sake! I can't believe Storm didn't see it all going down the way it did, I mean, I  _know_  she loves Gambit to little pieces, and that in her eyes, he can do no wrong, but  _seriously_! He's  _always_ -"

He watches helplessly as Marie stops still just outside of Hank's office and crosses her arms, expression carefully schooled.

"-looking for the next notch on his...belt...  _shit_." Kitty trails off and quits, her eyes widening as she realizes they aren't alone. She turns to face the angry Southerner standing behind her. "Oh my god, Marie-"

"Sugar, I see you  _still_  ain't figured out how to keep from talkin' about folks who you think aren't in the room," Marie bites off in a mild tone that fools exactly no one.

Bobby pulls in a breath. "Marie, listen-"

"Nuh-uh. Nope." Rogue's voice is sharp, and her face closes off completely as she turns for the door. "And hell no, I ain't back."

* * *

Emma exits the hospital, smirking to herself. Sarah had played like putty in her hands, and soon, she'll play the tear that makes the X-Men and their school fall apart.

And fall apart, they will. Storm's leadership as a field commander of the few is fantastic, but her grasp on the whole is weak. Xavier isn't that cold in the ground, and neither are Jean and Scott, and all three were major pillars of the entire institution. All it would take is kicking one of Storm's legs out from under her, and the team would be at each other's throats while the students scattered.

Of course, none of that is even remotely close to her long-term aim, her picture is much bigger than that. But perks are perks, and she's hardly prepared to ignore them.

Speaking of perks to the bigger picture…

Emma flings her mind back to the mansion, seeking out her favorite Southern soap opera in the making. She naturally finds Anna first, the girl a beacon of broad-casted emotions as she stalks out of the med-bay, positively boiling over with anger, masking a wild tumble of other emotions besides. A quick glance into the girl's thoughts, to see what had set her off...

Emma's smirk broadens into a full smile as she watches the younger woman haul it up the stairs for her room, her intent clear as she moves about, snatching up the few belongings she'd unpacked and stuffing them in her bag.

_How easily they fall to pieces!_

* * *

I'm just about ready to quit the bars and head for the beam, when the gym doors fly wide and crash into the walls, startling me mid-flip.

"So, I hear you like sleepin' on the job, Gambit," Anna's voice rings out in a loud, sarcastic drawl, spittin' my name out like a bad taste.

My feet hit the floor, and I turn to find her leanin' oh-so-casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, her cheeks flushed and her mouth twisted, two days' worth of avoiding me and spoilin' for a fight coiled up in every inch of her body.

"Or, I guess I should say, sleepin' with the job, ain't that right?" She adds in a pointed little snip, a brow hitched up.

Welp. Guess that cat's out of the bag, now.

"Don' generally make a habit of it, no," I answer, walkin' off the mats for a sweat rag and water, eyes never leaving her.

She barks out an ugly laugh. "So, what, I'm an exception?"

I pop the cap off the water and suck down half the bottle before answering that one. "Something like it, yeah."

She scoffs loud at that. "You're so full of it, Remy. Full of yourself, and full of lines. You can save all of 'em, 'cause I'm not here to listen to any of it, anyway."

"Oh non?" I pitch a brow at her, "that why you came barrelin' ass in here, cuttin' into my workout, 'cause there ain't anything to talk about?"

That pisses her off. Her eyes snap up on me as she breaks her stance to stalk on in toward me. "What's with all this talkin' you wanna do all of a sudden? All that time you were just fuckin' around with me, couldn't get you to tell me much of anything, and now, you're tryin' to talk?" She stops herself short a few steps away, shakin' head and slappin' her palm to the air. "You tried that a couple days ago, after everything came out. I wasn't hearin' it then, and I really ain't hearin' it."

"Just fuckin' around wit' you, chere? Non, you listen here. Look at me." Glass green eyes fly up and glare at me. "Now, I ain't shot straight wit' you on everything, that's true, but no," I shake my head at her, "no, I ain't been just fuckin' around wit' you, girl."

"Ha!" She blows up again, flinging an arm at me. "C'mon, Remy, I've heard all about you since I been back, all you do is play people, that's kind of your thing, ain't it?"

"Kind of." I shrug. "Til it ain't."

"Of course," she bites off with a roll of her eyes.

"Lookit, chere, I got-"

"Oh, I know, you got an answer, don'tcha?" She cuts in sarcastically, eyes wider than I ever seen 'em, the little snot...

"Yeah, I do," I shoot back evenly, "you of a mind yet to hear me out?"

"Well, gee, I don't know, sugar-pie, let me think on that one. No."

"Mmm-hm, I said it before, and I'll say it again, girl- you're a shit liar." I shake my head at her. "Nah, if you were through wit' me, you'd already be back in Queens by now, not here, callin' me out on my little fuck-up."

"Honey, I got all the answers I was lookin' for, and believe me, if I'd gotten 'em any quicker, I'd've been outta here a whole helluva lot sooner. But don't you worry, now, I'll be gone like a fart in the wind soon as I'm done here, Remy, and you can go on messin' up and messin' with whatever and whomever you please, so long's it ain't me."

That snide shit flies all over me. "Yeah? Did y' not hear a thing Stormy was sayin' the other day? Like that part where you an' every other cured kid's gotta mark bigger 'n the City and all its neighbors on your back right now?"

She sucks in her breath so hard, it whistles through her teeth. "Oh, hell no, you don't, you stop, stop it right there! Don't ya dare go actin' like you give a damn-"

"I ain't actin' nothin', Anna-Marie," I snap back, "but you, you're actin' real fast and loose wit' yourself right now. So, turns out I'm a real horse's-ass sometimes, and I hurt your feelings, that ain't no reason to run out there and get yourself captured or killed, no?"

"Hurt my feelings," she bites out, "nah, sugar, all's you did was make me a little mad for a minute. And you, you're just one more horse's-ass in the line-up here at this joint, me leavin', that ain't even about you." She flattens her mouth and sends me a glare to kill a body right dead. "You know what? You said you had a reason for being a lyin' shit to me, and maybe it's a good one. But maybe," she pauses, licks her lips. My eyes drop to that mouth, following her tongue-

"Oh, hell, you ain't even listening," she snaps disgustedly, backing up and ready to quit.

I snort at that. "Chere, I do believe I been listenin' to you since the second you near to slammed the door through the wall—"

Goddamned stubborn woman— "Chere, c'mon, now-"

"Nope. Nuh-uh, not a chance you're gonna charm your way outta this one, sugar. I ain't got the time, patience, or inclination to deal with whatever stunt you've got comin' next." She turns on her heel, headed for the door.

"And don't you go stalkin' me again," she picks up again, not slowin' down a bit, "or showin' up anywhere near me for any of that talkin' crap you seem to wanna do all the time now either." She pauses at the door, flinging me a cold look over her shoulder. "You, you just stay away from me, ya hear?"

With that, she flounces her fantastically shaped little backside out the door, letting the heavy creak-and-slam of the doors swinging behind her finish off a beautiful exit.

"Yes, ma'am," I snap irritably after her, charging the rag and tossin' it for a satisfying pop against the wall.

* * *

Sarah is not a woman one would consider fortunate. Born twenty-two years ago to an illegal Mexican immigrant by the name of Cici, her misfortunes had begun from the very get-go. Unable to breathe at birth due to her cord wrapped around her neck, she'd come into the world a 'blue baby', though the doctor and nurses had remarked in some surprise at just how  _purple_  she'd looked, instead. It wasn't until after she'd been stabilized, and the blue-ish tinge had left her skin, that it'd become evident that she was actually quite pink, marking the first physical sign of her mutation and Cici's decision to abandon her to the state of New York.

Over the next several months, other signs appeared- small, hard, painful knots pushed up alongside her spine and out around her joints, making teething seem like a cake walk in comparison. She had not been an easy baby, these knots multiplying with each growth spurt, and swelling up large and painful every time she'd caught ill or taken a vaccine. Doctors hadn't known what to do for her, and care-takers hadn't known what to do  _with_  her, resulting in little Sarah being shuffled about in the system perhaps more so than most mutant orphans were.

Finally, at the age of four, Sarah had decided none of the homes were  _home_ , and she'd slipped out the door, on up the street, and had just kept walking. It'd been pure luck that on the third night on her own, she'd met a young boy, MjNari, another mutant who couldn't pass for human. He'd given her his apple, then had taken her hand, and lead her down below to a community of misfits he'd called family.

Sarah had quickly come to call them family, too.

However, misfortune had caught up with her again a year later, as a man with burning red eyes lead a small group of others down and obliterated her home, her family. She hadn't escaped unscathed, either, taking vicious injuries along the length of her young spine, her neck broken, her head severely concussed.

She should've died alongside the rest that night, and  _lucky_ , they'd called her, that the devil-eyed man had been able to rush her topside in time to save her life. Nevermind that it meant seventeen years of being intubated, poked, and prodded, wiped and swabbed, humiliated on so many basic levels and completely dependent on machines to breathe. Nevermind that it was all  _his_  fault to begin with. Nevermind that he'd had the gall to visit her once, years after it'd happened, that he'd had the nerve to choke out a ragged apology, never  _damn_  mind that she was stuck there listening to him, her mutation and words stunted by tubes, paralysis, and head trauma, completely unable to do or say a thing to him.  _Because_  of him!

No, lucky was when he'd left and had never come back, though it'd meant she was alone. Not even the illustrious leader and protector of her people could be bothered to visit except on rare occasion.

Protector,  _ha_! She'd rather that white-haired witch left her alone, anyway, just like she'd rather anyone else did who dared to bother her in this miserable existence.

Everyone, except the crisp, statuesque blond who had visited her earlier. The woman hadn't been especially pleasant, nor had her stay been long, and Sarah hadn't liked her, but she had liked what she'd had to say.

_"Hello, Sarah,"_ she recalls the woman's cool, blunt opening echoing through her head,  _"today, I can heal the part of you brain to unleash your mutation, and show your broken body how to use it to fully repair itself. Tomorrow, I can show you how to control it, and the day after that, I can walk you out of here."_

Sarah hadn't cared about the rest of what Emma Frost had said, she'd listened with half a mind and readily agreed to it all. It hadn't been much, anyway, just an invitation to join her cause and a small favor to cash in soon.

She glances down at her toes and tries to wiggle them, feeling a surge of triumph as some of them obey her command. Frost had made good on her first promise, having unlocked her mutation, and the healing, while slow and sporadic still, jumping from damage to damage without rhyme or reason and sometimes unfinished with the one before it, has already started, and is getting faster, more efficient. Of course, with that progress also comes the knotting and swelling as bone pushes out between joints, swells up through the skin, but Sarah welcomes it. After all, if the blond pulls through on the rest of her offer, she'll soon be able to control it, and she'll be fully healed and  _able_ , able to go after-

_No_ , Sarah mentally shakes her head at that train of thought. She'll go with Frost for now. She doesn't feel any special sense of loyalty toward her, but a good deed hasn't ever gone past Sarah, and she'll do as she'd agreed to. She'll carry out that favor, and use the opportunity under Frost's employment to train herself into prime physical condition.

And then?

Then, she's going to find  _him_.

Sarah's lips twitch in a pitiful attempt at a smile, the muscles in her face still too weak for full expressions, and a hard, spiteful glint lights her eyes.

She's really going to enjoy what's to come.

She's going to make sure  _he_  doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, I took some liberty with Sarah's past. And MjNari, you might recall him if you'd watched the 90's X-Men cartoon, though I’m taking a lot creative license with him, too.


	9. He's Got Some Damn Nerve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rogue chapter:)

Lord, it's been about a day if there ever was one, and I'm on my way to my favorite little bar, 'cause I need a drink.

Actually, it's been about a damn  _month_. From finding out I'm kind of sitting on a house of cards, what with my power being likely to return within the next two to four weeks and all the implications probably comin' with that, and puttin' my brand-spankin'-new nurse's aide certification to use at a nearby hospital, the in-between stuff includes fun things like worryin' about finals and dealing with the reality that every person around the corner could be a Sentinel.

That last one's got me a mite paranoid. I remember the videos after that mess what shook down a month ago. I wouldn't stand a chance fighting, and even if I tried, the chances would be high that I'd just wind up taken in dead in the end. My best bet's running, but heck, if I don't even see one comin' til it's right up under my nose, I can't run and actually get away, now can I?

I know most folks back at the mansion probably think it was stupid, me leavin' and coming back home. I mean, sure, it wasn't the  _safest_  decision I ever made, but what am I supposed to do now, just quit living? Go back to depending on the X-Men to feel useful, like it's the only thing left for me to do?

Not only no, but  _hell_  no. For the first time ever, I'm doing exactly as I please, I'm normal(-ish?), I'm in school, I've got a worthwhile career in the making that won't get me killed... And I'm  _happy_! No way am I givin' that up.

At least this Sentinel operation's about to go bust, and fast, too. Between the news outing a dude named Sebastian Gilberti as the one who kicked it all off by breaking cure clinics around the country for cured mutants to target, and that factory out in New Mexico Storm put down, that's what it looks like, anyway.

I shudder in memory of the live coverage of that mess. All those people— men, women,  _kids_  —dead.  _Fried..._

Not quite Storm's M.O., but I guess it got the job done.

Speakin' of Storm, I feel a fresh surge of resentment bubbling up. I could get so mad at her all over again, gettin' all in my business like she did. Not for one single, cotton-pickin' second do I believe that she'd done any of it 'just to be aware' or for my protection or whatever, anymore so than do I believe she hadn't sent Logan my way. When he'd knocked on my door, he hadn't known much of what was goin' on, either, just said Storm had all the answers, and that I needed to come back and have a listen. He hadn't even been in the States but for the few hours it'd taken him to find me, he'd obviously been sent, and if she hadn't sent him, who had?

Real funny, that so many of us who'd left for that cure are already back, and that Storm seems awfully aware of where the others are who aren't back yet. And naturally, we're all being invited to re-join the X-Men, like we ain't got a place to go or a thing to do anywhere but there.

 _Ha_! If Dr. McCoy can be a well-educated and well-respected man in all his circles lookin' like he does, I'll be damned before I let myself be pigeon-holed into only being the little X-Man who can't touch like there isn't anything else for me.

I can't lie, though, irritating as that little trip had been, it hadn't been all bad. I'd mostly hung out down in the med-bay with Dr. McCoy, takin' advantage of the opportunity to get a little hands-on experience in a clinical setting. It'd just tickled him to no end, having someone else down there, workin' with him. He'd been thrilled to hear that I'm going into nursing, and had happily taken me on as an aide, showing me all the basics and lettin' me go at it.

I'll go on and admit it now, even though I'd asked Dr. McCoy about doing all this for the experience, I'd also done it to avoid Remy. Apparently, he's real skittish around doctors and clinics. I hadn't known that at first, I'd just figured that between keepin' myself busy and Remy likely not thinkin' to look for me there, I might get out of there without seeing him again. My first day aiding in the med-bay, while checking his vitals, Bobby had attempted at chit-chat, askin' about me going into nursing and what-not. I'd shot him my best fuck-off look, but he'd been laid up on a cot since that mission, and was real bored and especially chatty, so he'd just kept right on talking. Found out amongst all that babbling that Remy's a big baby about doctors (I'm pretty sure Bobby had heard about my little hissy fit in the hallway, and was trying to oh-so-innocently segue into that little topic- like I'd actually fall for that kinda shit!). Won't lie, after finding out that little gem, I'd gone from being about to yank that pillow out from under Bobby's head to smother him with it, to being about thisclose to kissin' him instead, because heck  _yes_ , I'd found me a hidey-hole!

I'd quickly gone back to the smothering frame of mind when Bobby had given me the most sympathetic look ever before takin' the hint and movin' on. 'Cause ain't it just so cute, the Cheater McCheaterson being all worried about his ex-girl gettin' suckered by a player, right?

I can't even  _begin_  to help rollin' my eyes right now at that nonsense. And again for good measure, because oh lord, Bobby hadn't been the only one feelin' all sorry for me. While Remy was apparently  _the_  big man on campus at the time, having the Untouchable One as a notch on his belt, I'd gotten all the little head pats for being poor, silly, little naive Rogue, going out into the big, bad world and gettin' taken by a handsome, silver-tongued charmer. No thanks to me losin' my cool in front of everyone on the first day, rumor'd had it that he'd left me crying all about it in my pillow because he'd moved on after an easy lay.

Goodness, I'd rolled my eyes back then, too, so hard, I'm surprised they didn't stick in the back of my skull, and that they ain't  _still_  stuck! I mean, I might've been an easy lay, but I wasn't cryin' any tears, and I sure as hell didn't didn't get taken for a ride because I didn't know any better.  _Oh-ho no_ , I'd known better, I just like good-lookin' men, and I like good sex, and Remy's...

Well.

My god, I can't even  _begin_  to adequately describe my level of surprise at seeing him waltz into the War Room that first morning, the  _last_  place I'd ever expected to see him, fresh out of the shower and lookin' a bit worn around the edges. Heavens to Betsy, he's a beautiful man! The very first thing to race through my mind had been something along the lines of lickin' into the dip in his collarbone and alllllll the way up to his mouth... Mmm, that man's definitely gotta mouth on him, and he knows how to use-

Well.  _Anyway_. Chasing that thought had been a huge feeling of relief. Relief, that he hadn't lied about not being into anything bad, that he's one of the  _good_ guys. Heh, real nice feelin', knowing for sure that I haven't been messin' around with a serial killer, after all!

And then, it'd all come crashin' into me, just how the whole thing looked between me and him, and then,  _then_ , I was flat pissed. What're the odds of him, a newly-minted X-Man,  _just so happening_  to bump into me, a former X-Man, in some little old dive in Queens? Kinda needle-in-the-haystack-ish, if you ask me. Granted, his place isn't terribly far from the joint, it's not completely out of the realm of possibility that he'd just wound up there that night, but all things considered, you know?

I'd puzzled over the whole thing a little bit, wonderin' what would motivate Remy to seek me out, because heck no, I didn't think for a second that it was coincidence. Then, two days later, I'd walked out of Hank's office after chattin' about my stupid power to hear Kitty runnin' her mouth. I'd known it was true, what she'd said he'd done, it all finally added up. And besides, while Kitty's a gossip, I've never known her to be a liar.

To say that I'd been absolutely livid is a gross understatement. I was pissed at Storm for siccin' him on me in the first place, and Remy... Mm! That he'd gone and slept with me, his target to  _stalk_ , is pretty skeezy, but to  _keep_  sleepin' with me, knowin' who I was, what my power was, and not only knowin' it was coming back, but  _when_ , too?

I'm no one's idiot, he'd just been trying to get it in as much as he could til I couldn't touch anymore, and I was feelin' a bit used.  _Played_. I mean, I'm a big girl, I know what a hook-up is, and honestly, I don't know that I'd be so mad if he'd only slept with me the once and called it good. I'd still think he was kind of gross for doing that, gross in that unethical, crossin' lines that shouldn't be crossed kind of way, but to go and start asking me out, playin' me like that, knowing what he did?

Yup, Remy's an asshole, I was thoroughly disgusted with him, and if I'm being honest, with myself, too, because I'd been  _thisclose_  to listening to him in the gym.  _This stinkin' close_. Because Remy? He's the dangerous sort, too damn good-lookin', has too much sex appeal- too much appeal,  _period_  -and then some for anyone's own good, for  _my_  own good. He's got a way about him, where you just want to hear him, want to believe him, and he's got this way with  _me_ , where he just...I don't know. Asshole, he might be, but he does listen, and he just keeps things easy. Doesn't make any demands I know I can't or won't meet. God help me, I'd needed to get away from that, from  _him_ , else I'd wind up...

Yeah. So I'd cut and run out on him, shaggin' ass upstairs for my things, and calling a taxi on my way up.

Despite it feeling a whole lot like running away this time, it'd felt just as good as the first time I'd left, slamming myself into the backseat of that taxi and leaving that place, knowin' I'd never come back, knowin' I wasn't going to see any of these people again. Well, everyone except Logan; I've always had intentions of keepin' in touch with him; I just kept puttin' it off. I'll be better about that this time. Anyway, right then was the best that mansion had ever looked to me- watchin' it shrink from the rear-view mirror all the way down that long front drive!

The wind whips up, and I hunch my shoulders against it, dipping my chin further into my scarf. Even after so many years of livin' up here, I'm still not accustomed to the cold, and I'm really not going to like the little walk back to my apartment later on, but I'm not about to skip my usual little step inside my favorite bar to avoid it. I hope it's not packed yet; I'm comin' in a little later than I used to, thanks to having a new schedule to work around these days, and it's right about that time of night where more folks are there for someone than they are for drinks. I'm really hoping no one thinks I'm there lookin' for someone, too, 'cause takin' all things in, I really ain't in the mood to be bothered.

I'm not in the mood to be by myself, either, though. Sometimes, just being around a happy crowd does wonders for a stressed head-space, you know? Even if I do want to be left alone and just watch.

I'm maybe five steps away from the door to booze and warmth when my phone chimes, lettin' me know I've got a text. I stop to dig it out of my purse, and sort of freeze at the message, reading it over and over again, because it's from my mama, who clearly hasn't cared that much about me all this time (I mean, what mother is ever okay with her fourteen-year-old daughter being homeless and on the run for months at a time, for god's sake? And that's the  _least_  of it!), but-

"Nope," I stop that train of thought to a screechin' halt, practically throw the stupid phone back in my purse while yankin' open that door and headed straight for that empty spot at the bar. Talk about a new development I'd just rather  _not_ -

Oh.  _Oh_ , come  _on_ , "what the ever lovin' hell...?"

Good lord, today's just  _not_  my day! 'Cause right over there, sittin' at the bar, with a pretty gal on either side of 'im, is none other than Remy LeBeau. He's gone stock-still, a drink half-way to his mouth, his eyes pinned on me, and  _damn_ , he looks good, and me,  _me_...

Well. I'm frozen in place for the second time in the space of maybe a minute, I feel like my lungs are too big for my chest, like they're crowdin' up into my mouth, I feel light-headed, and I'm equal parts pissed, excited, and curious... Suspicious as all get out, too, all things considered, I mean, I'd told him to stay away, to leave alone, so just  _what the hell_  is he doin' here-

Whoa, girl, cool it. No sense in gettin' all in another tizzy just 'cause some jerk without a single shred of decency to his name is stalkin' you again. You can make a believer out of that boy yet if he tries it.

He blinks, smiles the tiniest smile at me, and turns back, full charm, to the girl on the other side of him.

 _Asshole_.

I turn from him and march up the bar. The bartender- Marti's her name, she's somewhat new, but real friendly, a Southern transplant like me -comes up with a smile. "Hey, sweetie. What can I do ya for?"

I paste on a smile, order my drink, "Cap and Coke, sugar. Thanks," and proceed to do my damnedest to ignore the Cajun up the way. I pull out my phone, thinkin' maybe I'd get busy with some Angry Birds, pointedly refusing to think about that stupid text while I'm at it.

Nope, not gonna think about any of that, or any of the other crap buggin' me of late, I'm just gonna sit here and drink my drink, relax a bit, and go on, just like I've always done. I'm not turnin' tail and running, this is  _my_  place, and I'll be damned if-

"Evenin', chere."

I suck in my breath and close my eyes for a split second at the light brush of his fingertips across my back, at that smoke-roughened yat, spoken low, just over my shoulder, at the faintest whiff of his cologne as he passes to the stool beside me-

 _No_.

I look up, straight ahead, eyes already narrowed down to slits and anger already burning my cheeks, and I chew my lip for a second, gathering myself, my words, before I even so much as look at him. No way am I dealin' with Remy without a cool head.

My lord, the  _nerve_  of this guy, comin' to me,  _touchin'_  me, like he thinks he's off the hook 'cause it's been a while and he's pretty and he's pure, devil-spun sin in the sheets...!

I take a drink. "It was a right  _fine_  evenin', and then there was you." I signal to Marti for another Captain and Coke. "Now, my memory's sometimes not the greatest, but I do distinctly recall tellin' you to stay the hell away from me. There a part of that you didn't understand, sugar?"

He chuckles, and it scrabbles up my spine in a good way, damn him, anyway. "Non, I got y' message loud and clear, chere." He reaches for his cigarettes as he continues in a tone to match his smirk, "just gotta reason or two to ignore it tonight, yeah?"

 _That does it_ , that smart-ass mouth of his...

I whirl on him, ready to really tell 'im where he and all his reasons can go, and what he can do with them and himself when he gets there, because, my  _god_ , that boy's got some damn nerve...


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Bet some of y'all thought I wasn't coming back to this story, huh? Ugh, sorry about going a whole year just to finish this fic in the series! But never fear, there's more to come:)
> 
> I did have to make a few changes in the previous two chapters to do a proper lead-up to a slightly different direction I took here than I'd originally planned. Nothing big, though. Except the Romy Danger Room scene in chapter 8. I rewrote that.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this, let me know what you think, and keep an eye out for the next installment in the series!

Anna whirls on me fast, nearly falling off her stool in the process. "You're so damn unreal, you know that?" She spits out, "you dare come to me, all leanin' over my shoulder, and whispering in my ear, and your fingers all over my back, and now, you're talkin' to me like this, all innuendos and bad lines? Like ain't nothin' happened?"

I'm so damn unreal? Naw, that's her. She always has been. Not seeing her for a while apparently hasn't changed that, 'cause no lie, soon as she walked in and took the room, the place could've burned to the ground for all I'd have noticed, busy as I was starin' at her. Eyes wide, and with my mouth gaped open like a fuckin' mud cat out of water, no less.

Hadn't counted on her still being able to jerk an idiot's reaction out me. Hell, it's been a month, and I ain't exactly been pining or keepin' to myself since she left, eh?

"Nah, girl," I answer with a lazy smile, "it's 'cause a lot's happened that I'm here, talkin' to you in any way at all."

"Nu-uh," Anna snaps right back with a sharp shake of her head, "no. Whatever needed to be said between us is already out there, I'm not hearin' anything outta you now." She gestures off in the direction I came from, adding, "now why don't you go back to your pretty girls, and-"

"Three things, chere," I interrupt, pulling out a cigarette, "one, I'm already sittin' next to the prettiest girl here. Two, that ain't what I meant when I said a lot's happened. And three," I light up and blow the smoke away from her, "I ain't here for none of that, anyhow. And if I was," I flash her my teeth, and snip at her a little, "why go here, when there's places aplenty elsewhere, yeah?"

"Hmm, oh yeah, Remy LeBeau, the master thief of New Orleans, he doesn't ever go where he ain't wanted, huh?" She laughs into her drink. "Sing me another song, rat."

Looks like someone's been doin' a bit of homework since she's been gone, yeah? "C'mon now, girl," I tsk at her, "that's different. That's  _work_  y' talkin' about right there."

Anna pops up an eyebrow. "So, if you're not here for the usual, what you're  _really_  sayin' is, you're clocked in and lookin' for me?" She scoffs and looks away. "Same-ol', same-ol'. Just a different day, huh?"

"It is a different day, ain't it, chere?" I agree pleasantly, "and if y' lookin' for more of that same-ol, same-ol' out of this old boy, well," I let my grin grow slow, "you play nice, and I might could change my mind on what all I'm here for."

"Don't be an ass," she snaps out. "What is it you want? Storm get all worried about me again, and send you out to, what? Stalk me some more? Watch over me? Or maybe you're supposed to talk me into coming back?" Now she looks over, squaring right up at me. "If it's the last, then I'd call it a crap move on her part, sendin' you, seeing as how I'd about rather gnaw off my left arm than deal you again, huh?"

I dramatically clutch my chest and gasp. "Ah, now, that hurt, beb! Got me right in the feels, yeah?" I shake my head and take another drag off my cigarette. "Mais, non, Stormy ain't got much to do wit' me being here tonight. She's got me lookin' at someone else, a homme callin' himself Sebastian Gilberti." I tap the ash off my smoke, watchin' her reaction. Girl's in a bit of some shit, some of which has raised a couple of questions on my end. "You heard of him?"

"Really, Remy?" She laughs a little, then shakes her head. "Look. I'm pretty far out of the loop on anyone other than who's on the cover of a gossip rag at the corner store, so, no. No, I ain't heard much of him past what's on the news." She turns back to me with an expectant look, "And I'm sure you already know what's been said there, so, we done now?"

"I'd say it was a good thing you don' know much of him, but in this case, it ain't in your favor if that's all y' know." I reply, ignoring her attitude. "He ain't too nice a guy."

"Yeah, well, that's typically how it works, huh? The bad guys are bad?"

"Mmm-hm. I found out a couple of things about him along the way, and interestingly enough, he's been real busy findin' out a couple of things about you."

She rolls her eyes. "Uh-huh, and lemme guess. You've got something solid linkin' him to those Sentinel attacks here while back?"

"Mmm, well, I got something, yeah."

"Right, right," she continues in a mild tone, "and me and all those other poor ol' cured mutants are on his little Sentinel shit-list, and we're in  _so_  much trouble, right?"

"Astounding leaps of logic, sweetheart, but that ain't quite where I'm headed wit' th-"

"-And like, I haven't ever heard any of that before? That I'm in all this danger?" She asks with another eyeroll and a flourish of her hand. "What, you gonna start tellin' me next about how water's wet, too?" She snorts and gets up to leave.

"Naw, see, that's another thing, Anna, if you'd pipe down and listen for a minute," I reel her back in. "That shit-list, as you call it? You ain't on it. You, and a couple others like you. Not yet, anyway."

She turns back, scowling in confusion. "I'm not followin', Remy. You mean to tell me, I don't have to worry about Sentinels huntin' me down, like y'all were so worried about? That I been lookin' over my goddamn shoulder all this time, and- Christ, you got no idea-  _mm_!" She cuts herself off with flattened lips, then practically spits at me, "Cajun, y'all on some real thin ice. And just what in sam hill do you mean, 'others like me'?"

I look at her for a second, takin' in the complete lack of patience flaring up behind that hot as fuck mouth of hers. Takin' in the confusion wrinkling up her brow, too.

I'm not here to hold her hand or give answers she ran from. I'm here to get answers out of her, see what she knows about Gilberti, if anything at all, and move along. With the mess I done come across, her name poppin' up as much as it has all in the middle of it, there's some answers to be had, alright. Every bit of it's making my instincts scream at me, tellin' me I've only scratched off the tip of something nasty, and that it's going back in a direction I'd just rather not fuck with if I ain't got to.

Hell no to getting dragged into this with her, if Anna's any more in it than how I already know.

I put out my cigarette and stand. "That's a talk, girl, and I don't think you want it right here. Maybe we head off somewhere that don't got us greasin' elbows with everyone crowdin' up for a drink?"

She looks indecisive, eyeing me while chewin' up the inside of her cheek. Then, she pulls in a deep breath and forces it out her nose. "Fine. You've got five minutes, Remy. And I swear to god, if this ain't good-"

"Now, now, chere," I give her a wicked grin and push my luck, "you know me better than that. I always make it good, yeah?"

She levels me a killing look and shoves past toward the back of the bar, and I can't help but smile a little wider as I turn to follow her.

After all, I got the prettiest thing in the joint demandin' I make it a good go of her time, what's not to smile about all that, neh?

* * *

So?" Anna gestures across the table at me, "talk. Start with that part about how you know Sentinels aren't on my tail."

"Eh, don't you get too excited about any of that, chere. How about we start wit' that part where you got an admirer, who's lookin' like he's got loud mutant-hatin' asswipes in high places, and possibly even worse friends is worse places on top of that, diggin' you up, and he just might be tied in wit' the Sentinel stuff, too, yeah?"

She shrugs irritably. "Alright. Good a startin' place as any, I suppose. So, Gilberti?"

"Mmm-hm, Gilberti." I lean back in my chair, watchin' her, "the man framed for the security breech at all them clinics."

'Cure clinics', they been callin' them, places throughout the country where mutants lookin' for the cure could get it. A handful of 'em in the city got broke right before the Sentinel attack, and wouldn't you just know, a bunch of names of cured kids got leaked to the wrong crowd.

To be more precise, forty of them names belong to folks we rescued that night, and a whole slough of others got thrown out to the public in the sloppiest, most half-assed covering of tracks I've seen in a good long while, bringin' in a new spike in anti-mutant crowds, this time targeting those that took the cure.

A goddamn mess, is what it was, all done to distract. And it sure as shit wasn't meant to distract from the hack itself or the Sentinel situation like everyone's tryin' make it out for.

Anna stiffens in surprise, brows slammin' closed. "Framed? Thought they all but had him pinned for sure on that one. And besides," she adds with a suspicious squint, "thought you said he was lookin' me up. It'd fit if he was the one who broke in and hacked-"

"He ain't the hack," I cut her off, lighting up another smoke, "and he  _is_  lookin' you up, but he didn't get you from the leak, 'cause your name ain't anywhere to be leaked."

Another pretty little piece to the puzzle, there. Whoever broke the places set out to hide a few folks while at it, erasin' records from databases and the like. That part was done up right, putting the overall sloppiness of the job in question, and if I hadn't learned a thing or two from people better at hackin' than hackers, I might not have caught it, either.

To say that I might've took note when the name of a certain green-eyed bombshell of a cured mutant popped up in that find might be a bit of an understatement.

"Hold on, time out," she demands, hands slapped up in the gesture to go with her words, "what do you mean, my name ain't anywhere to be leaked? One of the clinics broken into was the one I went to. I'm in the system. Ergo, my name's out there somewhere. And who're these 'others' you mentioned earlier?"

I ignore the question to stare at her a minute. She ain't one to hide what she thinks and feels too well, and right now, it's a genuine mix of surprise, skepticism, and suspicion riddling that woman from tip to toe. Her body language ain't been throwin' me, her eyes haven't had the usual tells of a liar, and her emotions have been matchin' her words since I walked up.

I came in here tonight with a quarter mind side-eyeing Anna for a shit-stirrer, 'cause I got an idea on who it was that's responsible for the clinic breaks, a shapeshifter goin' by Mystique. Back when I knew her, she was just Raven. Didn't go by anything else, and seein' as how you can't find shit on her, I'd guess it's a made up name.

Anyway, the job's got Raven's stamp all over it. Just so happens, she and Frost go a ways back, too, like, pre- Hellfire Club-a-ways-back. I've got Gilberti tied to the Hellfire Club through Creed's pal, Bolivar Trask, and it ain't no secret that Frost ain't exactly  _friendly_  over there. And now it looks like her old bff set Gilberti up in the same job that also wiped Anna off that list of cured mutants exposed?

Some might call that a stretch, connectin' Frost, but considering the people in question, coincidences ain't ever coincidences, and that's too many all in one breath.

And as for Anna, she ran out on the X-Men when she was lookin' to be in all this trouble with the Sentinels, and come to find out, she wasn't, eh?

Someone went through some flashy lengths protecting her, and given the suspects, then Anna's either keepin' some pretty questionable company or she's in trouble.

The former don't quite fit the woman I was gettin' to know, but it ain't like folks in my world don't ever fall for that old trick at least once in a lifetime.

Unless I've completely misread her in the past and I'm misreadin' her right now, Anna ain't gotta clue about any of this. It crosses my mind to let her be, after all, she's the one who ran out of the safest place to hang out these days, and it goes without sayin' I ain't feeling all that sweet on her anymore. And it's not like the hard-headed little mule would appreciate a helping hand from me, anyway, no?

Eh, my tante Mattie always told me you get out of this world what you put into it, and I could sure do without an extra heapin' helping of spite thrown back in my face later on.

I pull hard on my cigarette and blow the smoke out my nose in a hard sigh. "Chere, I done said it, you wasn't on anyone's list from that mess of a hackjob. 'Cause the person who broke in made sure your name was gone before they threw everyone else's to the wolves. Gilberti's got alibis that check out for that entire shitshow, and he didn't start lookin' at you til well after the Sentinel attack." I take another drag off my smoke, cockin' my head at her. "You ever had a run-in wit' a metamorph callin' herself Mystique?"

"Pfft, name me a hero who hasn't," Anna snorts back, and then she slides me a curious look. "But yeah, a time or two," she answers perhaps a little too coolly, then she shrugs. "You think she's the one who broke the clinics and squirreled away my name?"

I shrug noncommittally. "You, and a few others, maybe."

"Alright, well, you gonna elaborate on that at all? Or you gonna continue being all  _cryptic_  and  _mysterious_  about everything?"

"What I'm gonna do is ignore that rude tone of yours for a minute, 'cause—"

"—well, if I could ever get a straight answer outta you, I might—"

"—'cause I was gettin' there, Miss Impatience—"

"Remy, I swear to Jesus—you're down to three minutes. Best get to your point fast, Cajun, 'cause I will cut you off mid-word and leave—"

"—mais, you ain't gotta get y' nose all outta joint, chere, if you be quiet and calm the fuck down for a second, I might could tell you, eh?" I finally snap at her with an exasperated look.

She narrows her eyes down at me, clenches her jaw, then flings a hand in a pointed gesture to go on.

"As I was tryin' to get out there," I continue just to needle her a bit, "one such other is Sophia Stepford. Know her, by chance?"

"Nope, I surely don't," she snots right back, obviously all too happy to tell me that.

"Hmm, alright, how about twins, Irma and Phoebe Grand-Kick?"

"All that dancin' around to drop a buncha names I don't even know," Anna chortles like a fuckin' nine year old into her drink. "So dang dramatic, I swear."

"I'm dramatic, heh," I snort right back at her, reasonably satisfied with her answer, "you the one actin' like I just took a couple of decades to tell y' something for the fun of it, when all it was is you can't keep that mouth shut for a minute. But that's alright," I grin at her real slow and decide to spark at her fuse a little, "always did appreciate y' mouth best when it wasn't closed."

Her eyes pop wide and then squint back down to slits. "Oh, don't be gross,  _please_. Run your trap at me like that again, and time's up," she snaps, shifting irritably in her chair. She's flushed, though, and that hard-ass stare flies off elsewhere real quick.

 _Ho-ho_ , look like someone ain't so unaffected as she wants to be, eh? I start laughing. "Ah, chere, now that ain't even close to my kinda gross. Yours, either, so you can quit that act right now."

She shoots me a look to let me know exactly how much she didn't appreciate a thing I just said. "Who're these gals, anyway? Why am I supposed to know 'em?"

I finish my smoke and let her change the subject back to the problem at hand. "Never said you was supposed to know 'em, just seein' if you did. It ain't all that important that you do or don't." And it isn't, as far I know right now, anyway. "What's interesting here is the fact that Gilberti got set up in clusterfuck all to make sure you and them three don't show up, and y'all don't— zip, zilch, rien, nada, niente, you ain't there —and y'all on his radar now, anyway."

Anna sucks in her lower lip, and my eyes drop from hers to watch her drag that lip back out. "I don't suppose you know how he got us and why he cares so much, huh?"

"Ain't them some million dollar questions?" All's I know is what I caught him at while he was doin' it. I'd had to do things the old fashioned way on that end, and focus on catchin' him red-handed in the middle of something since I didn't find shit else on him. A little B-an'-E, a little installment of remote snooping software, and I was sittin' pretty, just waitin' to get a good ding from anything he did on a computer.

Turns out, Gilberti's a dumbass when it comes to Interneting quietly, so I got a few dings. All of which makes him even more 'interesting', considering the whole no past thing. Most people without a past are either in a protection program or they know a little something about hidin' themselves on the Internet. This guy's not either of those. He literally seems like he fuckin' dropped in out of nowhere, which ain't a pleasant possibility to consider.

"Well, I appreciate you giving me a heads up and all, but I gotta feeling you didn't do it 'cause you're a great guy. So why are you here, tellin' me all this?" She asks with a wave of hand, those eyes nailin' me to the chair.

I grin at her. "Minin' the salt for every grain it's worth, ain't you?" I shrug. "But if you'd prefer I hadn't, you could've cut me off at any point, so maybe don't worry too much on the whys and wherefores, eh?"

"Don't you spin it around," she snaps, "I know you coulda just gone to Storm or Logan with all this. You didn't need to say a thing to me, unless something's in it for you."

"And you ain't so wrong, there." I shrug. "Jus' a little give and take, is all. I got answers, and now you do, too."

She sucks in her teeth, eyes sizzling up. "Yeah. Sounds about right. As with everything between us, you got what you wanted first, huh? I gave, and you took?"

I stare at her, waitin' that one out. She's got her mouth flattened out, and she's now glaring at her fingertips running the rim of her glass, actin' like she's got more to ask, like it's eaten at her a little that she hasn't asked it yet.

She glances up, and I still swear it, she's dead-ass the most stunning woman I've ever seen, especially when she's riled up and feeling shit. That little rip of nerves, hurt, and resentment I've felt behind her every word tonight is punched up full-force in those eyes, the tightness of her jaw, and the pinch in her mouth just now.

"Why'd you do it, Remy?"

"Do what, chere?"

She's fidgety, for all she's starin' a hole in me from across the table, agitated and shifting in her chair. "Me. Why'd you mess with me? Of  _all_  people?"

I shake my head. "I didn't."

She damn near visibly sharpens up at that. "Don't you lie to me, Remy. A straight answer, just once, huh?"

I lean forward, elbows on the table. "Ain't lyin' to you, Anna, I never did. I left out lots of things," I shrug, "and so did you. People like us, leavin' shit out til we can lay the cards down kinda comes wit' the territory, yeah?"

" _I_  left things out?" She squawks and jerks back in her seat, thoroughly offended. "Like  _what_? My favorite color? I was wide open with y-"

"Oh, y' were, were you? So, we're gonna just leave that part alone where a man askin' you out an' about might wanna know some of the hell he's gettin' into wit' you? Me, I ain't all that mad about it, 'cause that kinda shit never mattered to me and we all got our secrets, but it's the principle of it all, ain't it? Especially since you're so quick to tack my hide to the wall over it, yeah?"

Anna pops up, and her chair scrapes back hard and loud, gaining people's attention around us as she slaps her hands on the table and snarls at me. "You absolute ass, that's not- yeah,  _fine_ , you know what? I did, I left some stuff out. I left out the fact that I had a power that kills with a touch. I left out that part about how I used to be a 'superhero', and I left out the fact that all that supering was an insolatin' cage I wanted out of. And I guess I did leave out my favorite color, but only 'cause you were too busy playin' me to ask what it was." She sucks in her breath, eyes blazing. "So yeah, I left a few things out. Only difference is, my things were personal, and it only affected me, because, you know, I'm cured." Her lip curls on that last word, and she continues, flingin' a hand at me, "and you knew all about it, anyway, so don't you even pretend like it's the same!"

I raise brows at that. "But you didn't know that, didja? It's the  _same_  goddamn thing, Anna, just a couple of different twists. You really think all your shit affects only you, chere? You gonna act like you didn't know that cure was failing? Act like holdin' out on crap like that killing touch might not affect people tryin' at something wit' you? What about Stormy? Logan? Folks who call you family? You think your little cured story never affected them any?" I lean back. "Nah, girl, you can be pissed at us assholes all y' want, and you ain't one bit of wrong for it, but you, you ain't no angel here, either."

"Uh-huh, and your five minutes're up," she spits out, hitchin' her purse up on her shoulder.

"Yeah, alright then, run off again," I mutter loud enough for her hear as she stalks off, rolling my eyes. She don't even turn around, just throws me the middle finger on her way out.

 _Pah_. Knot-headed bitch, openin' that particular can of worms, and she don't wanna see anything past her own end. She'd rather get her last word in and run off again.

 _Stupid_. I'd know a thing or three about it to say so, too. Cuz she ain't the only stupid one here. That whole thing with her was fucked, anyway, too much in the middle right out the gates, and neither of us really able to do anything about it. I'd never expected it to even be a thing, and then it was, and then my impulsive ass just rolled with it. And Anna, she did the same damn thing, pushing and pulling the whole way.

Heh, one thing's for fuckin' sure, neither one of us lied a bit when we said we sucked at being with people.

I snort and get another cigarette, light up, and leave, pulling out the phone on my way out. For better or for worse, I got what I came for, and the clock's not stoppin' yet tonight.

" 'Ey, Fence, how you doin', man? Listen, came across a little something, made me think of you…"

* * *

Sebastian is a man without a past.

Well, as far as the present is concerned, anyway. He does have a future, which seems to collide a bit weirdly with his past, in that it seems as though time doesn't stay in line, if his spotty memory is anything to go on. Spotty as it is, it's all he's had to go on since literally waking up on Rose Gilberti's doorstep.

Lucky for him, Rose answered her door with a sharp smile and and flint of recognition in her eyes before welcoming him in.

Lucky…

Not lucky. Despite having next to no memory to start with, past an urgent sense of having things to do and a vague feeling of supreme irritation, he hadn't been  _lucky_. He'd known he was supposed to be right where he was, and she'd known who he was.

He laces his fingers across his chest and closes his eyes, mentally commanding his body to rest, despite knowing he won't sleep. The bed he was given is horribly uncomfortable, more like a concrete slab than a mattress, but that isn't the reason he won't sleep. He won't, because he can't. His mind never stops, never shuts down, is always on, chasing this thought and that, running circuits til another is discovered, and then it's wash, rinse, and repeat. It's always been that way, as far back as he can remember.

Which is further and further back, more and more frequently these days. Memories flashed up from another, brilliantly detailed fragments until they ghost just out of his reach. As of yet, they make little sense, but he innately understands that once something is there, it is never truly forgotten, so it's only a matter of time. A matter of another memory to spark more.

It'd all started that day mere months ago, only a handful of minutes after Rose had invited him in. She'd had the television on, watching the news run on mutant registration efforts. He'd rooted in the middle of her living room, head buzzing louder and louder as he'd listened, a hatred of a sort clicking.

' _Mutant_ '. The one word that started it all, to open up a single memory, one that had dropped two hints: Graydon Creed, and Friends of Humanity.

Less than a week later, he'd already seen a Friends of Humanity rally. He'd gone in having already decided to join, and he'd joined in order to get close to Creed. Success had been his, as not only had done what he'd came to do, but listening to group rhetoric had triggered more memories, memories of grand, beautiful, but doomed initiatives toward mutant suppression.

 _Sentinels_. Fantastic creations, each version more stunning and complex than the last, all projects ultimately inefficient and unsuccessful, due to short-sighted planning.

He remembers each start-up. The first had been so rudimentary, running on sheer size and weaponry, and intended for more of a policing role than anything. Later models had been heavily imbued with mutant powers, though he hasn't yet pieced together how that was achieved.

Apparently, neither has anyone else, because this recent Sentinel attack, they'd had a few abilities, but they'd been so  _crude_ , no sophistication, and there hadn't been nearly enough of them…

He frowns, eyes still closed. He remembers these Sentinels, recalls this recent launch, but not as it'd happened a month ago. Well, he does have that memory, but it'd pulled up a different one, one that feels like it'd happened decades ago.

He smooths his expression and lets that thought go. The implications there make little sense outside of some rather fantastic possibilities, so he doesn't dwell on it.

At any rate, where he had been lucky was in the fact that Creed is an idiot, despite being an absolute shark. It hadn't taken him long to chum up enough to use him as a pass to the minds and pockets behind nearly every Sentinel project ever risen, a small circle of influential men within an organization known as the Hellfire Club. Shaw, Trask, Gyric, Creed, Stryker… all big names, all happy to eat up every word out of his mouth in the end, and all in possession of leads his answers.

Especially Stryker. That had turned into a goldmine. All that research! And two doctors, in particular…

Those names promise other memories, but they still elude him.

He doesn't get frustrated with it, though. Instead, he turns that loose and grabs at other names that'd recently come to him.

_Anna-Marie D'Ancanto. Power stealer. Kurt Wagner. Teleporter. Sophie Stepford, telepath. Irma and Phoebe Grand-Kick, telepaths…_

And several more. But of all those names, it's those first five that stand out and demand his attention.

The first had popped up in his mind immediately upon laying eyes on Bolivar Trask, images of a proud woman with a look in her eyes to scrape out your soul. She had yielded the second name, and a rapid succession of flash images, other powerful mutants, and a rabbit hole sparking ideas (memories?) on super power-enhanced Sentinels. The last three names belonged to separated sisters, and had given up two more sisters, a long line of experimental siblings, and a neat tie-in to those aforementioned sparks.

There are more names to come, more memories to come with them, and they'll fill in the gaps. They'll lead him back to the creation of those stunning Sentinels, and the changes they'll drive. The success in the frontline against mutants, success where there were nothing but hit and run, run and miss failures, failures that will now be skipped.

_To be successful, you can't rely on random attacks…_

"...you need a coup," he murmurs the rest to himself, eyes never opening, certain he'd just quoted himself from his past, the world's future.


End file.
